Will You Be My Tomorrow

Will you be my tomorrow? When the sun creeps languorously Red and purple swirls, golden tentacles stretching, stretching to embrace the spreading wings of birds aflutter as they draw towards those very life giving limbs as they burst through the skies vividly To and fro they dart a choir of beautiful solo proclamations disjointed yet unified Great trunks sturdy lifting greens higher, higher to drink of that potion Buds, slowly they unfurl giving way to dainty leaves How carefully they are veined, their sustainance obtained Leaning blades they weep as they witness the beauty of my tomorrow, today Will you be my tomorrow? Vicious winds howling Oranges, browns swirling like dancers they flutter to the ground Soft blanket of fallen pieces carefully laid disrobed from gnarly fingers striving, yes striving for perseverance Garbled birdsong , hunched wings as they retreat into cocoons of their creation woven and threaded pecked and mud slung perfect in their complexity, beautiful in simplicity See where there is stunting, blades no longer lush but trodden to bareness beneath the carpet of debris that paves a way for regrowth tomorrow... but what about today?