The Golden Harvest

Everywhere I look, fields filled with the golden harvest greets me and my heart jumps with joy and glee,

They are my children, for they’ve grown right under my chrysalis pair of hands and eyes;

Bloomed and blushed from ebullient green to the effervescent golden that they’re now,

Giving me unbounded felicity, I’ve toiled days and nights, with the blood in my body and sweat from my brow-

But not for long…

For soon enough I’ll have to hand them over as a father does for his daughter at the time of marriage,

Seasons pass by, this time plague strikes like a cataclysm, out of the blue;

Eating away the crops by numbers; my children left to die under the sun and the moon,

We farmers feeding the nation are left unfed, looking at my daughters’ face I decide not to die-

My ‘colleagues’ conclude otherwise…

As months go on, the agony and the pain increases; the noose around my neck tightens,

“Will, I ever see my children? Will, I even have a golden harvest?” questions come easily;

Answers hard to come by, amidst the chaos teardrops, transforms into rains,

The Golden harvests at my disposal; patience pays…