Let tomorrow be
what we will never
see,
but, through
beautiful ruse
changes hopeless
impossible
into goals and
dreams,
and more of what can
not be the same
as
yesterday.
Let today be a
memory,
when tomorrow, that
never is, comes…
a memory of grey
glory
and defeats endless,
of that one kiss
that
was not, of that
climax
só much better than
any other.
Let a dream be a
dream,
and a ruse no more,
but
a rose, in a garden
of torn
memories and
anxieties…
hopeless, perhaps,
but
beautiful, no less.
