What Is Wrong With My Garden?

Well, I did the routine chores,

Am waiting till the rain pours;

I have planted the seeds,

And removed the weeds;

Am proud that my call will be harkened

Can anybody dare say

"What is wrong with my garden?"

Well, the rain never came,

I stand and face the shame;

I had planted seeds of pride,

Into the sun I must now ride;

Nature is proud that its call is harkened

Should anybody dare ask

"What is wrong with my garden?"

A man gives to the world all he has,

And looks skywards with his eyes unfazed;

But the Lord of Time holds a mast,

The future soon becomes the past,

Time is proud that its call is harkened

It is with humility that I say

“I know what is wrong with my garden,

Oh Lord! May I beg your pardon?”

© Nitesh Kotecha