When do I tell you that I love you?

When the rain finally appears?
When the breeze cools the heat?
When the thunder breaks the silence?
When the earth sighs under the heavy clouds?
When the dry ground is saturated?
When the water inundates the street?
When the river moves quicker?
When the water crashes over the dam?
When the only option left is to drown?
When the water sweeps you away?

Or do I tell you quietly like the raindrops on the window tells me it’s raining?

In moments of grey?
In moments of stillness?
In moments of anticipation?
In moments of preparation?
In moments of warmth?
In moments of refuge?

Or do I tell you loudly like the lightning tells the atmosphere, “I am here!”?

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