why shall i ask you to wait
for the bells to ring the time
of laying the wreath
on the grave of those
poems which were written to myself
but which ended up creating
expectations all around,
every tree in bloom
felt that these poems were celebrating
the arrival of spring
when i had actually only narrated the
solemn demise
of certain hopes
that be better laid to rest
after all, do we sow the seeds in desert when
drought has alredy begun