Dappled Whatevers Normal

From my friends at We Write Poems:

>>>> Write a poem of three stanzas.  Begin the firrst stanza with the word “Yesterday,” the second stanza with the word “Today,” and the third stanza with the word “Tomorrow.”

Yesterday I felt full

of sycamore leaves and

dappled sunlight and
faint buzzing of some
indistinguishable flying
creature, too small to
make clear as the darkness
fell and the bzzzz grew

Today I seep in worry
stuck in pre-penance
draped in the angsty
"whatevers but don'ts"
of early adolescent sobbing
she is done with but
I still hear from my
insides to her outsides

Tomorrow I wonder
what surveys will be spent
under the guise of usefulness
fizzling hope and perhaps
rising reality, optimistic
will greet my downcast eyes
and echoes of her gulping
for air or maybe my
voice will be back to

normal

===

Comments

[Mary]

Julie, I am so glad you wrote to my prompt. There is never a 'too late,' as I see it. Sometimes there just is not time.

And I wish you the best of all possible tomorrows!

[Derrick]

Wouldn't it be nice just to remain "full/of sycamore leaves and/dappled sunlight" ?!