In this my waiting

[sun_sparks]

In this my waiting

Ah, in this my waiting,
how fast October goes,
how swiftly day fades into dark. "to dark" instead of "into dark" (and maybe "swift" instead of "swiftly" to keep the meter?) 

My melancholic rose,
like one who sailed an ancient river
where the green papyrus grows - I adored this stanza. Not sure about the enjambment at the end after "grows". Does the line break fulfil the same purpose? 

like her, like you: no age can wither,
nor custom stale. Your nose I saw the previous comment about "nor custom stale" - when I reread this stanza without it, it seemed to add to the humour (maybe dropping "can wither" down?) 
may be substantially shorter,
but there’s poetry in your prose.

Thanks for sharing this Busker.

Your rhyming scheme helps to bind this poem beautifully. It begs to be read aloud! 

I really enjoyed the story, but was left wondering - what are you waiting for? The first line promises an ending that doesn't come. (Although, that being said, October always seems to be a period of waiting... for winter, for holidays, for darkness.) In that vein, I would also love to see a different title.