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
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