Finally, A Procrastinator's Confession

A little Poem to break the idleness: Ahem Ahem.


All our hopes and dreams and plans and schemes,
Are locked within a thing,
We call tomorrow.

And all the joys we glean, which we smile and sing,
Seemed to be wringed from the future dream,
We borrow.

But despair is seen in this tiring stream,
Of robbed, ransacked means, to which we cling,
Our dear possession -sorrow.