if i could just borrow tomorrow,
i'd return it like a book borrowed;

no dog-eared pages, no side-notes
of someone else's past or hopes.

i'll pore over it, making my meaning,
which will jibe true or be leaning

towards my dust-blown, checkered past,
of which pride is not the beginning or the last;

one of the truths self evident as is penned
in documents of Magna Carta or on the wind.

finally, when laid down, reclined and togged
in Kings gown of our selfish ego and flogged.

til then we all sleep in our skin and bones,
thinking were the banks and rivers. our own

making of deltas and guiding to their rewards
the water before it becomes ocean wards.

10/16/2008

Posted on 10/16/2008
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan