in the meantime, 'til it Over

the years pass, loved one acquaintances die, and life, sometimes a semblance of it passes, goes by

Spring sprang in suddenly
like a golden flash
on a galloping white horse
she lit up the grey of cloudy darkness
and made it run away
like a flock of frightened crows
spring came in dazzlingly bright
with gold rays of silver
reflecting off a million leaves
of equinox green’s march
the man turned to see amazed
and forgot all about all
his acquaintances that had died
some said, “passed on,”
she lit up the grey of cloudy darkness
and made it run away
the man forgot about
those he had met long ago
those who were gone,
the ones who were dead
and he thought about the ones
he loved for ages
the ones more than acquaintances
the ones who had breathed with his own lungs,
who had lived with him a love that could not die,
but they did, these were gone,
they were dead
pulverized bone and rotted flesh
for a longer moment,
the human marveled at the blazing light
of spring on her gold white horse
and lost himself again, into the grey
as he recalled those that said,
“let’s s build for tomorrow,
here, don’t just stand there and think,
lend a hand!”
the man recalled,
lost himself again,
into the grey the ones he loved
with a love that could not die
the ones he could still remember
whose faces, laughter and smiles
dispersed with no atoms’ trace
only memories left, made of particles tinier
than muons and smaller still
than those collided into other dimensions
the man shunned, recoiled and disdained
the condescension of spring’s crooning chirps
“the best is yet to come - golden years
nearby at hand, hold fast in your hand,
the world awaits, your dreams’ command,”
the man settled in, returned indoors 
back to the task at hand he ripped 
a baseboard out of its age old hold
against the wall for three fourths century 
it had clung fast, its assigned plight 
in the man’s house baseboard and nails 
had served their function
for all times past to presently
concealing behind, all manner of corruption,
speckled blemished tarnished paint,
from webs to dust, from dust to bugs
from ashes to splinters and ashes again,
he grabbed more leverage grip and ripped away
slowly pulling it all away,
he groaned an everlasting groan,
a mental gasp, exhaled
the very essence of the vain, uttered;
“where have all my loved ones gone?”