Tomorrow: The Poet's Word Circus

Yesterday,

awhile ago, I told you all

I wrote a poem, very lengthly tall.

I wrote a poem, a poem,

a insignificant-to-me poem.

a foolishly-I-submitted okayish poem.

to a contest for very good, excellent poems.

But, Today,

My poem was enough to impress

one or few judges, If I were to guess

who spoke amongst, discussed

to award my poem, my pile of dust

an award of Golden First lusture stardust?!

Tomorrow, oh lovely tomorrow, 

My poem, will travel far

further I ever had by car...

Nationally New York! You all hear?! 

The City New York! Oh so I fear.

What if I were to win, to win, to win?

Tomorrow is killing me from within

I am unsure of what shall happen,

But if I were to succeed, i'll jump off the wagon,

join the international word circus of poets, its beckon.

Mother dear, the word circus, there I truely belong!

I yearn for its sights, not a 9-5 office work song,

I shall miss labs, legos, the labor of life, 

in favor of the word circus delights. 

Mother, I wish to be a poet!

Tomorrow, oh tomorrow.