Someday Never Comes

Will the stars reach down to us,
clambering and
cold diamonds cut sharp?

When you call the chill wind
on your own heart
you hold a fairy light
too long in your hot little hand.
The fuse is blown, the bulb clouded,
You skin fused in heat,
cut by the spikes that made the light beautiful.

What is this? Would you call it life?
Would you step down from where you are to see?

Reach up to the sky, entwine your hand in the dark blue
tear the fabric,
take it,
make it your own
for your private patchwork quilt.

Tomorrow’s coming, we must away,
Don’t ever linger, don’t idle,
You have to come with me today,
Climb the downward slide,
beat the curling smoke your own ashes produced.

Someday never comes.
Someday never comes.

Taught by your father, his idol before him,
the music of yesterday in the mouths of today,
who are waiting for tomorrow.

Someday never comes.

October ’05


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This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x

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All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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