It shall be poetry
that captures where
I am
and allows my mind
to go where
I need to be.
Away from false news,
false hope, and
questionable judgement,
I find solace from the
context of confusion
cluttering
the atmosphere and
taking away
all that is important.
                                                                            j.g.l.

Even Today

We wait for something to happen,
someday.
We plan, unconsciously, of things
to come or things to see, perhaps
not even specifically, but eventually.
Someday.
Some day, some week, some time
in which we hope or speak, the
someday when it will be just as we
imagined. Or better.
Someday.
It’s not today, I don’t know why it
can’t be arranged, so we don’t try, but
someday
soon we know we will, and that
illusive day will be such a thrill.
We know it, so we wait for
someday.
Every day
                  is a potential someday.
Even today. Can’t today be the
someday
you choose to make it happen, to
take the ride, or is this another day
you will simply let it slide.
Someday
is certain, now and then. You know it
will come, but you don’t know when.
                                                                j.g.l.