It’s late at night, so I think of tomorrow,
Or later today as my calendar might say,
And thus I imagine the chances of sorrow,
And figure the price I paid for today.

I’m ready to fall right flat on my head,
For not sleeping like my parents said.
And come nine hours there’s a math test;
I betcha my brain’ll be taking a rest.

But I have to type these lines of irony,
So my tomorrow’s self may get to see
That today I thought the cost was fine;

For the brightness of a day’s smile shine,
Though earned by foolish trifling gains,
Is in the future but a dream that wanes.

This entry was posted on Monday, March 29th, 2010 at 2:24 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.