Life is always one day long,tomorrow's is that hoped for day,its
quite elusive or far away,and yet it seems just like to-day,from
wishful thought;no tomorrow is bought,am i grasping at just naught
what i call tomorrow then;am holding in my writing pen,until it stops at midnight's clock,then sleep becomes a quiet shock,in and out float about;that's a dreaming state no doubt,twist and turn in a timing current,on waking up i look and see,a clock says four,
or five i be,tomorrow's eternity,and each new day GOD,gives thee
and me,until we meet in heaven we will then be free,tomorrow's
only an imaginary key,without alock,or an unwound clock,time stops
will tomorrow,to us forever knock.
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE Read more articles by Joseph O' Sullivan or search for other articles by topic below.