Thursday, 8 May 2014


Each morning is a promise of something

An evening  a wishful thinking
I look out with an anticipation
Of what is about to come my way

I walk in crowd but my thoughts are alone
Propelling persuading yearning to grow
I seek and ask and enquire around
Or perhaps I have it already and am second to none

The moments of past outweigh the future
Yet my step is sure and ensconced
I tread, no dread  comes to me
For I am the shaper of my destiny

The words are profound yet they humble
For each step must not flounder
So fly I must just to try

Another morning with a promise of something