You Do Not Come Poem by Satya Prakash

Past midnight
When clouds gather in the sky
And shut off the stars,
I can hear the rustling of the wind
Among the leaves
And the regular croaking of the frogs.

In the paddy fields
The fishes swim or rest in muddy pools,
A snake riddles its way through
And the lonely peepul tree
Keeps a constant vigil
(Its leaves shaking silently in anticipation
For the absent virgin moon.

You do not come.
Past midnight
I turn restlessly in my bed.