Flights of Fancy


I love today. Though this is true
I may not love tomorrow.
Tomorrow I may stay in bed
and wallow in my sorrows.
And though today I pick snow-peas
tomorrow I might not
I might leave them in the garden
until they begin to rot.
Perhaps today I'll run away-
If I get lost, so be it.
So if tomorrow comes- alas!
I won't be here to see it.
I wish today would be my last-
go out in flaming glory-
cause living as if life goes on
is infinitely boring.

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