The Longest Wait

Come the height of the sun's old reign
I return to depths most unchanged,
The parched Earth lasts not without rain,
Yet it is my heart claimed estranged;
I am a garden bed afraid -
To change and grow and grow dismayed.

For who knocks upon hallowed halls
And echoes deeply his abandoned fears?
The few souls here have stained the walls,
Sundering memories and quiet tears;
All that is to be, a picture of you;
And the room shaded a lamented hue.

Each step sounds a thunderous roar;
Is reluctance a signal? Is it real?
Each step beckons, Another more!
What is autonomy when you can't feel?
These white-washed halls do no man well;
Do not disguise as heaven what is hell.

It is a beige ceiling, tired, old, and sick;
Yet mother stays aloft to keep you in;
Have you heard the old men demand her tricks-
Like a dog; submit and one day you win;
It's why throughout the night the TV's on,
Because it's what keeps you warm before dawn.

Tears do not kiss my eyes and flee my face,
Because outside the window beauty thrives!
There's never been a soul here, but a trace-
Of time escaping our warm wasted lives,
But the sun is high and the garden green!
I see it all through the old window screen.

Four walls surrounding me, a separate shade;
A color such a deep and mystic well,
Yet the same, transparent and overplayed;
The colors swim and mix an awful tell;
It makes one sick to think! A heart debate!
I curse myself and face the longest wait;