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Poem

Tomorrow ain't here yet,
Its still hours away
And when it comes,
I hold onto it
Only to realize it's an illusion.

In my grasp
Is today, and today
Is not enough,
Is not what I expected.
Once again, I hedge my bets
On tomorrow.

Then a million tomorrows
Pass me by,
Or so it appears
When I look back.
Looking back at the wasted
Yesterdays, I put back on
My rose coloured shades
And look towards tomorrow.

I, eventually, regretted my yesterdays
And dreamt of tomorrows,
Then one day, I looked
At the today that stood
Before me, recognizing it what it is.

Today was the clay,
I could still mold
Into the tomorrow I yearned for.

Today was the marble
Ready and waiting for my chisel.
The blank canvas
Prepared for my paint.
The blank page
At the ready for my words.

Slowly, with much resistance,
I put aside my rose coloured shades,
I pulled up my sleeves
And dealt with today.

I used the tools and lessons
Of yesterday and my desires
And wants for tomorrow,
And I made today
The foundation for a beautiful
Tomorrow.

The beautiful tomorrows
That became beautiful todays.

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