If I could say goodbye to yesterday,
My eyes would blink and tomorrow would grow.
'Twas trees that tilted torward a backward way,
Falling its feathers forward a frantic flow.
My mind below the moon moved from the sun,
On pebbles of the past upon a pond.
After the moon and sun eclipsed as one,
Winds of the world waved like a magic wond.
Minutes massaged my mind inside of glass,
Bottled in skies bright blue as the wind blew.
Slow seconds seasoned time present to past,
And I knew not of that new day I knew.
Surfing the past atop her salted sea,
Past shall not pass, her waves are all I see.
Copyright © Johnny Sumler