maybe tomorrow

for a moment
the dark sky
was a promise of
cerulean sanctity
a cold gray land

i sit
staring out the window
as the coffee
steams lazily
beset by longing

and as the sky
takes on
a rose quartz
the clouds reflecting
the city below

i murmur my love
into the rising vapor
my own discontent
at a frozen day
spent dreaming again

the funny thing
about dreams
is that no matter
how many times they repeat
it only takes coming true
once, to be worth it

maybe tomorrow

3 thoughts on “maybe tomorrow

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