Skip to main content

But I promise to love you tomorrow

The promises of a better tomorrow
Holds me back, my darling, today
There is always so much more to do
But I promise to love you tomorrow.

Working late nights and barely sleeping
I wake up and find the world already rushing ahead
And each day dominoes into another
But I promise to love you tomorrow.

I was young once
And I thought I would have more time
But now I am in a bit of a rush
But my darling, I promise to love you tomorrow.

Just when I thought that I finally had time
My therapist forced on me a dog
My little sweetheart, my cuddly woodly coochie coo
And Oh!, there is you!

You, my darling, I promise to love you tomorrow 😊


Photo

Labels:

Comments

  1. AnonymousJuly 21, 2024 at 4:50 AM

    God! It's been like ages. Are you back to blogging?

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda, You would have smelt of summer roses And Autumn pine. There would have been sheer love Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache And loneliness bordering the divine. You would have had so many secrets Welling up as in a girly giggle And so few friends who would hear them all. I am no Neruda I can't paint you a Summer breeze Amidst this long winter chill.
13 comments
Read more

Spiral

Come Let us slice into each other With fine surgical precision You slash me here I slash you there And then When the storm is done I will patch you up And you tuck me up You bring the bucket I the mop the blood And together we will cleanse Our ancient hurts Our guilts And our fears  Until we start again And over a cup of coffee You tell me  My dear Just how much you love me And I shall tell you Just how much I love you.
2 comments
Read more

That Fluttering of Broken Wings

If you were to cross the road and hurt your toe, I know that I will never know. As we go on to take different roads and move on across different shores, there is something that happens to our relationships. Something that estranges, disconnects, disintegrates. I know that you still think of me. I know this because I find myself thinking about you. And thoughts rarely get seeded on their own. It comes from you to I and from I to you until one of us is alive. Old relationships rarely die. Like broken winged moths, they hang around dark alleys of forgotten memory lanes. Ever so often, I can hear one of them flutter its wings. Not too close but never too far.
10 comments
Read more