groundhog ouroboros

Iím tired of our timing
the one that says
not here, not now
for reasons unknown

We wait for the days to pass
into unfamiliar territory
trying to pretend weíre not afraid
that tomorrow will be
exactly the same
and that todayís aspirations
wonít float into the wind
the cremation of last nightís dreams

Ink stains crackle off our fingertips
like the kind of ash you can taste
when you lift your tongue to the wind
and dare to breathe in

Iím hunched shoulders
waiting for dawn to rise on future days
that wake with more hope than despair
full of the belief that there
is more to life than
right here
right now
heart empty of fullness
and the kind purpose
that makes us want to get out of bed
when tomorrows clouds block the sunlight
from our waiting faces
with the promise of better

© Indie Adams 2014
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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