Meet Me At Planting Time Poem by Linus Kithinji Njeru

I'm sorry, love, for last night's space,
Where hunger met a quiet place.
We missed the moment—just a slip—
And now I write with trembling grip.

You see, I came with heart unmasked,
Not just to eat, but to be asked:
"Did you miss me? Were you aware
Of how I longed to meet you there? "

Not just for food, though hunger stayed—
But for the warmth that love had made.
I thought of lunch, not evening light,
For justice waits not for the night.

The best time to sow love's sweet seed
Is when the soil knows the need.
Not saved for later, cold or dry—
But planted now, so roots run high.

I'm learning still, and so are you,
But part of love is seeing through:
To be received, not just allowed,
To feel your heart speak soft and loud.

It's not the meal that hurt me most,
But that the host forgot the toast—
To say, "You're here. I've kept a place.
With open arms, and love and grace."

I should have given you my hunger,
For mine has lingered even longer.
Not just in belly, but in soul—
A longing just to feel me whole.

So let's not wait till dusk or later,
For love delayed feels slightly fainter.
Let's meet in rhythm, soft and true,
Prepared in heart, in time, in view.

You mean the world. You still, you do.
Let's grow this garden—me and you.
To meet with joy, with hands prepared,
With hearts that say, "I knew you'd be there."