Wednesday, February 21, 2007

A poem

If you say to me tomorrow
all that is to be will be
it could bring my memories back
stir the sorrow that was lying deep.

If you say to me that you'll still want me
and I doubt you do
I would sit back into myself and then turn out
to you.

But tomorrow never comes
and as I do live today without regret
You still live yours without knowing me at all.
You don't know how I feel, but I suppose I know you
I say to you that this tomorrow may come
And you'll know how it is to be true.


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