Tomorrow by Richard TrotterWipe away,
the blotches on dark lenses
sharply inhale,
the sorrow in the air
walk along,
bruised bones on carpet
Just one isolation,
from a troubled chest of years
with memories glared
in destiny's headlights,
so blind and trusting
in unknown salvation? 03/29/2003 Posted on 02/29/2004 Copyright © 2025 Richard Trotter
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