My sudden dissapearance

I saw that spot again tonight, the place of stained sadness.
It’s isolated, but you can see it from the road, yet you could be lying there for days and no-one need find you.
I wonder, if I was murdered, would anyone miss me? How many days before the report - missing, missing?
Perhaps I’ll murder me and find out. Drag my body to the field and into the pond lush with trees and bushes - leaves to hide my shame - and wait and watch to see my world change.
See the days pass slowly, the grave visited only by herons, and I peer at the sun and the fields and the road.
My bus still passes, five minutes late – the same, without me on it. Strange, another nobody takes my seat then.
Now, here comes that tall man – walks his dog - I pray they won’t find me; arrest me, and bury me.
But they must do, because I’m back here - on the bus - watching my cemetery zoom by, listening to bittersweet songs, happysad that I’m alive.