The Next Day

John Herlihy

Coming to the end of this day,

Waiting patiently for the next day.

The future on the tip of today’s spear,

Waiting to be pricked, waiting to appear.

The next day at the helm of tomorrow,

Sweet anticipation held firmly on borrow.

Today burns the candle down at twilight,

Crimson flames replaced by soft moonlight.

As the moon moves down the Milky Way,

Disappearing into the dawn of the next day.

To escape the darkness in the blink of an eye,

Spreading its voluminous light across the sky.

Birds awaken from the comfort of their nest,

To sing, to fly, in the adventure of their quest.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Thursday 20 March 2025