PROCRASTINATION

A poem incomplete.

A story incomplete…

Lay on writer’s table…

Pieces of a mind incomplete…

Tomorrow..Tomorrow….

“I can ooze out marrow….

From my creative soul..”

Within the room he prowls..

To complete the incomplete..

To bring out what is replete..

He needs a touch …

It is his crutch….

I walked with him

I talked with him….

I laughed with him…

But forgot to touch him…

Intoxicated his mind…

With procrastinations on end…

He said...tomorrow

I fear he will die…

In tomorrows ….that may never come..!!!