Tomorrow's Calendars Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Filled with emotion fighting to get out, wanting to
be freed and explored in discoveries of the mind.
Letting loose an intense desire to be the center of
attention, yet never really wanting to be.
Standing still, in the evening of a purple rain,
falling upon my face, drops sliding down, finding
no place to reside in right now.
Placing copies of tomorrow's calendars where they'll
never be seen or found again.