Tomorrow Is Another Day
The world grew bright, as it always did
Squinting, The crippled boy rose on his arms, as he always did
And upon his little shoulder rested a worn wooden plank
And this plank, atop his little frame, shook and shook his arms as well
For on this plank danced a troupe of merry little friends,
To the tune of naivety,
And as his little friends did dance
This crippled world shook on its weary arms
Its' little warped legs long ago wasted and spent;
And as the world grew dark, and the music slowed
The dancers, arm in arm, retired to warming beds, laughing
So this little boy let out a little sigh, matched by the echo of laughter
And while all his friends heard was joy,
All his little ears heard was mocking;
And in this stale night, where no one could see
The boy bent his elbows and fell there on the ground
There he shook and he whimpered, and he cried for a mother he never knew
And when his arms stopped shaking, and his heart stopped beating
His chest stopped sobbing,
He set his little face with a determined look as he gazed into the dark:
...Tomorrow is another day. As it always is.
© Samir Georges
2010
Copyright © Samir Georges | Year Posted 2010
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