Tomorrow Poem by Randall Livingston

Tomorrow is an empty promise.
A blank cheque written
against today.
On a account full
of promises that
may or may not
be paid.
Thoughts formed of
black ink,
quickly turn to red.
Words are quickly eaten
when realized what one said.
Day upon day
Melding into one.
A catch up without a
back up.
Time you can't out run.
Tomorrows seem so
plentiful, there's
no harm that today is
waste.
Something that was
swallowed, without a
thought of taste.
The more I think about it,
my account doesn't
seem so fat.
Forget about tomorrow,
today is where it's at.

- R -