“On Contemplating the Future”
There is no Future; there is only Now.
The Past is but a memory of flings;
my days have flown with many hopeful vows,
but Now is all that’s left among my things.
The locket that he gave has turned to rust;
the promise ring, a momentary pearl.
And each forgotten love has turned to dust;
winds somber-gray my silken, lovely curls.
I grab my current cup, gulp greedily;
see brimming bubbles winking at its edge.
I drink its dredges; bottom of its sea
for life is but a moment and a pledge.
The future’s only held within my eye;
imagined worlds that may come, by and by.
(Day 10, April PAD, Writer’s Digest, write ‘future’ poem)