Talk of Tomorrow

by John Herlihy

Nothing as sweet as the talk of tomorrow,

Nothing as bitter as a life had on borrow.

Bright is the day when tomorrow comes,

Like the satisfaction of adding up our sums.

So much of tomorrow we don’t even know,

Fine threads of tapestry into our life to sew.

Tomorrow with the arrival of a new season,

Each seems to bring along their own reason.

Who knows but tomorrow may never appear,

Tomorrow may arrive at the tip of a spear.

The days pass and pass, does anyone care,

Tomorrow’s arrival brings its own prayer.

Days of plenty, days feeling oh so homey,

Days of remembrance, days feeling lonely.

The day with its patina or joys and sorrows,

There in the seams of glorious tomorrows.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Friday 4 July June 2025