Poem: Yesterdays

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Behind the glass I see myself

Trapped within the thin layer

Of the shadows of yesterday.

Screaming to cross over,

The time does not arrive,

It keeps moving further away, 

What am I doing with my life?

I hope, I dream, I wait;

Waiting for tomorrows that 

Become yesterdays.

Frail figure, the ghost of my hopes,

It floats around smiling at 

Passersby in coats.

Dying to get out, 

To explore, to feel alive.

When will the spring arrive? 

When will the wild flowers

sway like the clouds in the ethereal sky?









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