I lament

I waited in the early summer sun
for you to arrive
Excited by our idea
to plant seeds
before the rain would come
We would have great expectations
waiting for the fruitful reaping
of fulfilled promises...

Instead...
You never arrived
As if to mock my childlike spirit
Your procrastination is an example of deliberate and inhuman cruelty
As if, you never believed in dreams
or realised even,
that such timeous labours-
which might be tedious
and obsolete in their essence -
are accomplished only in a place beyond this existence...
I often wonder what death is like...?
I mean; is it a matter of contented bargain
or a futile fight
where withdrawal and imminent concession are the only possibilities?
I am wondering many things.
Too many things, in fact
With stale breath and tired eyes
and autumn leaves
floating purposefully before them
Daring to hide you in their camouflage
should you come...
Even if as an apparition
An illusion to whisper in my ear
that the harvest is tomorrow
and that my enduring of unrelenting heat
and mischievous crosswinds was not,
is not, in vain.

The loss of you is palpable still,
and no reason
from nobody
can justify it.
Until then,
I will mock your absence -
and the absence of better-
with patient waiting.
Even if it is foolish.