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Mon 22 Nov, 2004 03:12 am
I begin each day waiting for tomorrow,
I end each day longing for today.
Never content or satisfied,
Always wanting what I cannot have.
Yet even when it's possible
I refuse it
Stubborn, afraid, so unsure
Like a desolate flower,
Not yet in bloom
Awaiting the time
When I can face reality
Except certainty
Open my petals
To the suns bright rays
Unafraid of the shadows
All the while
Wishing for yesterday
man, sometimes thats exactly how i feel.
you're a spiffy freakin' writer, man. Hooray to you.
Like the flower to which you allude, your poem is a blossoming work of beauty, my friend. A pleasure to the eye and soul :-)
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