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