In the morning, when you arise, of what, do you think first,
Pleasant thoughts, to begin your day, or thoughts, your life, is cursed,
Every day, could be, your last, today, is what you live,
Yesterday, is already gone, with the memories, that don’t forgive.
As you rise and leave your bed, does your day, begin with a smile,
Or do you try, to forget, happiness, held for awhile,
Endings and beginnings, laughter, sex and pain,
All things, you once possessed, amid sunshine and pouring rain.
If, you really, think of it, there always, is good and bad,
It’s not about, the things, you wear, or the things, that you once had,
It’s about, the things, that stay with you, no matter, how hard you try,
To push them, from your memories, with the blinders, you apply.
There are times, when you will find, a source, of true elation,
Woven, into memories, caused by, your creation,
Though, we search for answers, as the questions, get in the way,
We all, will have a chance again, we’ll get, that chance... one day.
White sand.A memory, for the future