Tomorrow is a promise that we make everyday
Believing that the morrow is always on its way
It’s our hope for the future and one that we all share
But for some, those tomorrows may never breathe the air
No guess that time or consequence or evidence show
How much of tomorrow each of us may ever know !
Oh what an exciting thrill that it would be
If I were a shining star upon your tree
I’d glow and twinkle brightly all through the night
From morning snuggles to whispers of goodnight !
There is a basket that sits on a shelf nearby
Full of ideas that failed as other hopes did die
It holds the remnants of the life that I desired
When time was young and no special talent required.
There in that simple basket rests a thousand schemes
Amongst the fabric, ribbons, needles, plans and dreams
Pieces of wood, paper, cotton, wishes and bows
All of them part of a past that nobody knows.
The basket is silent, it never had a voice
Like those who filled my life yet never made a choice
Each has their secret cache that only they control
And each at last decides what is their final goal !
Oh how I wish that I could be
A riv’let running to the sea
That constant trickles down the drain
The remnants of the night time rain.
A drip, drip, drip upon the wall
Now gathers fast at evenfall
And makes its downward way complete
Runoffs from gully, stream and street.
The volume growing as it flows
Cross valleys, fields and tall hedgerows
Until at last its task is done
And we have breached the river’s run !
Fantastic visions fill my head
As I lie here upon my bed
I feel as though I’m in between
The space that lives twixt wake and dream.
My visions are so truly clear
What e’er I see seems strangely near
My heart pales, I can’t catch my breath
What is it like so close to death ?
A simple sound defiles the air
And stills the gloom, be gone despair
I’ve things to do I can’t forget
This is too soon it’s not time yet !
I looked for love I searched in vain
I thought that I had missed that train
So long ago I cannot say
I can’t recall upon which day !
There is no reason I can give
Or cite one person to forgive
Why it just happens who can know
For some to stay while others go.
The wheel spins round and round, you see
And stops where it is meant to be
Tis true to note we need control
It is our choice, our aim, our goal !
There was a time in storyland
When castles were both large and grand
Where wizards ruled across the seas
And royalty lived as they pleased !
In storyland there is no pain
The dragons all have fought in vain
The heroes dress in white and gold
And children love the stories told !
I think I might have liked it there
While we all know that’s not quite fair
Though fantasy much pleasure gives
It’s there imagination lives !
The sunshine sneaks into my room
Replacing night time’s eerie gloom
The photos hung upon the wall
Do happy days and times recall.
Familiar faces one by one
Remind me of past summer’s fun
Those thoughts so full of magic sights
And warm and sunny days and nights !
I wish somehow we could return
To memories for which we yearn
But it’s too late for turning back
That train left on another track !
Listen closely and you will hear
Wind whispering into your ear
Its breathy voice echoing clear
Wake up, wake up the summer’s near !
A rocky wall, a crumbling fence
A dried-up brook, a withered vine
A fallen bough held in suspense
That rests upon a clementine,
Unkempt yew side a tumbled post
A grim reminder of neglect
While lamp to spider’s web played host
Its use long past one would suspect.
This sentry by a garden gate
With primrose path and weeds profuse
Makes statement that fair shouts “Ingrate”,
To focus thought on life’s abuse.
We’ve seen the waste misfortune brings
And many styles that pruning need
Applied not just to vernal things
All spreading hopes crave care to breed.
See the mist rising from the flat earth in hazy layers
With cattails parading plumes erect as stalwart players.
The wet and steaming pools of teeming water peeking through
A veil of fog that hugs the road’s dim edge and clouds the view
Drown me in my thoughts arising from a sea of want and waste
Arousing fears I can’t forsake with time nor leave in haste.
Thoughts like forgotten goals do need a place to heal and thrive
Within some habitat that speeds their quest, keeps hope alive
And mocks not this inconvenient meadow of use no more
That sheltered many idle tears and fed the earth’s dry floor.
Fleeing from the wake of life where the forceful currents ran
Far from the ocean’s depth, understanding when it began
That not all creatures could survive the tidal lap and lash,
Some need the gentle marsh wherein survives that smouldered ash
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Claire V. Bogdanos 