The author of my tomorrow
Is a man who knows tomorrow’s news
He’s smart, slick and quick with his tongue
His books tell of a curious mind and he likes his full bodied wine
brewed in the folds and valleys that tell stories of Greek Mythology
The author of my tomorrow
Is a golden voiced story teller
He loves the arts and ancient history is his forte
Sheba, Cleopatra and Tutankhamun are names characteristic of his lingua
Telling of Kings and queens now fallen,
Then, names that shook kingdoms
But tomorrow he, the author, will be the King of my kingdom
The author of my tomorrow
Loves to laugh
Deep hearty quirky bursts of deep and dangerous loving
Stories dotted with triumphant boy tales of starry nights in the village
Telling of a past that’s bold enough to desire new memories
Tugging at hearts and revving golden oldies into sheer insanity
Loving, laughing, and lurking underneath, wanton
The author of my Tomorrow
Exists in my dreams and I’ve seen him on the street
But even in unreal reality, His tongue I taste with mine
His eyes; the mirror in which I see every breathing moment
The rise and fall of his chest guides my very breathing…
His hands, guide me to the path of glorious satiety
Me. Him. Us. We.
Tomorrow, Singing hymns of our jagged forever afters
Dreaming new dreams; making new memories….
Tomorrow
Is a man who knows tomorrow’s news
He’s smart, slick and quick with his tongue
His books tell of a curious mind and he likes his full bodied wine
brewed in the folds and valleys that tell stories of Greek Mythology
The author of my tomorrow
Is a golden voiced story teller
He loves the arts and ancient history is his forte
Sheba, Cleopatra and Tutankhamun are names characteristic of his lingua
Telling of Kings and queens now fallen,
Then, names that shook kingdoms
But tomorrow he, the author, will be the King of my kingdom
The author of my tomorrow
Loves to laugh
Deep hearty quirky bursts of deep and dangerous loving
Stories dotted with triumphant boy tales of starry nights in the village
Telling of a past that’s bold enough to desire new memories
Tugging at hearts and revving golden oldies into sheer insanity
Loving, laughing, and lurking underneath, wanton
The author of my Tomorrow
Exists in my dreams and I’ve seen him on the street
But even in unreal reality, His tongue I taste with mine
His eyes; the mirror in which I see every breathing moment
The rise and fall of his chest guides my very breathing…
His hands, guide me to the path of glorious satiety
Me. Him. Us. We.
Tomorrow, Singing hymns of our jagged forever afters
Dreaming new dreams; making new memories….
Tomorrow
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