Tomorrow Poem by Jerry Pike

How beautiful the midnights' creep through cellophaney skies,
onto the rising dark of sleep with sunless alibis.

And pretty much each dozing bird nods into velvet blue,
and those awake have only heard the snoring of the dew.

Though drenched in moonlight and her sighs, what waves would dare to stall,
enchanted in the midnight’s rise and drunken to its fall

We come from nowhere to a race, that two can never win,
so there, it’s writ across her face, tomorrow shall begin.