False Circles and a Full Moon

Later. 

Perhaps tomorrow.

The next day like it was tomorrow

Then a week built of spare change

for a few fizzy moments.

Maybe. Then later.

Later never remembers and thinks it was later.

You start to dream backwards and wish

that you died politely back when there were still yesterdays.

Reviews

[weatherbee]

I thought this poem was very clever. I chuckled at the end of it. Love the play on words.
Giant thumbs up!

WB