Tomorrow
it might never come.
But it does.
Wearing its big feet in tight pointed
high heels.
Tomorrow
is coming up in roses
and big boxes of bad chocolates with hidden thorns.
Tomorrow
may be a high-maintenance noun
too expansive, too large to be understood.
Emotional, complicated, but fraught
with the tantrum expectations of a little girl mind.
Tomorrow
might be a mantra
in some foreign land where it is a rapid
repetition of nonsensical syllabic deceptions.
Tomorrow
is an idea of someone you haven't yet been.
A word that taunts and often fails to please us.
When a filament of hope is all it leaves us.
Tomorrow
sometimes exists to disturb us.
Tomorrow
is a Little Girl's word.
Copyright January 17, 2013 All Rights Reserved By this Author
Melissa A Howells / Meloo straight from her Tilt-a-World
Just think about Annie and expand it out from there. Idea came to me on a busride
after I penned one poem on the back of a receipt. January 16th was a productive day.
