Too Soon Yet Too Late

 
 
 
Describing its arc in words I had read,
A cavalier speaker my fate.
In a cryptic tongue of semaphore shed,
You’re leaving too soon yet too late.
 
What happened to me before I could feel
Came sooner by the heart to rout.
But what happened to you didn’t seem real,
Was too late for me to find out.
 
I don’t understand how some treat a soul
The way thoughtless ones did to you.
Your poet’s innocence they freely stole,
To take control but had no clue.
 
It looks very soon I’ll be where you won’t,
A graveyard in verse I will walk.
I’ll see no more days to read what you wrote,
A world of your past will I haunt:
 
With crusty bread, red wine, pâté and you,  
To share afternoons, table set.
Two poets linger, no rush coming to,
Recalling the first time we met.
 
A Tuscany in Autumn’s nakedness,
To revel in a promised breeze.
The rain came to dampen a happiness
Among the valley’s olive trees.
 
A flght in Summer, what it was about,
I picked daisies hearing you laugh.
To suddenly see the jump of a trout,
I never felt this was the last.