The Tale of Tomorrow
The girl in my mind runs brusque in the wind,
Greeting “Tomorrow” as an old friend.
“Tomorrow” embraces her with classic good graces,
Apart from the people who wear fretful faces.
This girl does not flee from what lay in haze,
Unlike the others in all of her days.
“Why,” she pleads, ” why do you run?
‘Tomorrow’ will come, it’s finished, it’s done.”