Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
Come with me, tomorrow
I used to think
That life was a square
My books are read differently
From each year of my life
The sunlight shines upon my poetry
Desperate to escape
From desperate winds
For real...how can poetry lovers heal?
For we are the rag dolls of the century
Well maybe tomorrow
Has a surprise in store
And desperate winds
Can escape desperate tomorrows
Yet there is always a poem written
By the feelings of a desperate poet
Aren't we all cool anymore?
For tomorrow seems
Like a great idea
Only one can dream of such a thing
Oh madness when it comes to roam,
We roam like the sea
Waiting for poetic lies to falter
And once again, my books are read
By poets of the desperate sea
Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love you, tomorrow
Here is a rose for you again
I cannot bear to see tomorrow.
-
Author:
Soul Baby (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 17th, 2024 00:27
- Comment from author about the poem: I acknowledge you, God. And I just want to say, thank you for all that you do for me. And again, thank you for giving me this special gift to share with the world. Poets are some of the best people in the world, for we express ourselves like no one else can.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
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