These Days

These days If tomorrow does Or does not come I don’t care When I was young And knew the sweet meaning of love I waited for tomorrow With open arms Knowing that loves song Would fill my heart Love was life and life, love Each breath that filled my being Was filled with happiness and joy And writing poetry Was as easy as picking up a pen These days There is no joy in my life Nor words to fill the emptiness That once filled a young mans heart These days There are only blank papers Filled with the words of a pen That no longer writes poetry