Yesterday came a day too late
I wasn't ready for that,
Tomorrow will be a day too early
I won't be ready for that either,
Better take it one minute at a time.
One thousand, four hundred and forty of them!

Some of us are grains of sand
And some of us are jellyfish
***** and shrimps
And some others are starfish
Anemones and snails
And still more of us are oysters
Worms and plastic bottles
And love is the sea
That washes over all of us.

My fate is sealed
And not with a kiss
Though I am thankful
To him for turning
A blind eye
A couple of times
But I can tell
He's a bit miffed now
That he didn't take
One of those chances
And he's got a contract
To fulfill
So he's asking everybody
I know
Where I like to go
And I am going this way
So if you could tell him
I went the other way
I'll owe you one
And if he does catch
Up with me
I'll say it's a case
Of mistaken identity
I'm not the person I used to be
I used to be courageous
And when I wasn't old
Enough to know better,
Laugh in his face.

Wish I could be here
Really here
In the here and now
And just live every second.
If only they were a bit bigger
I could reach out
And grab one again
Like I did when I was younger.
I'd seen it, just floating
Going nowhere
So I caught it then ran back home,
A whole second in my sweaty  fist.
It didn't appreciate being stuffed
Into a jar
It wanted it's freedom back
To be limitless, to be anything
Anywhere, anytime again.
Anyway, it managed to unscrew the lid,
In the morning it was gone,
Taking half of my years with it.

Hidden but not hiding
I worry about my soul
If it is involved anymore
Or just keeping score,
If  I get something for struggling
Barefoot up this mountain
When I could have worked harder
And saved up
For some climbing boots
And not left my gloves, obviously,
I don't know where
And not let my hat fly off
In the first gust of wind
And thrown away my sunglasses
Because she wanted to see my eyes,
And maybe it will whisper to me
In the dead of night
And I'll remember why I'm here
And get a few points
For blisters.

The Robin is not singing for me,
Better hold my breath
While I eavesdrop.
The path beneath my step
Is not worn away
For my convenience
But I'll keep my head down,
Hope nobody sets a dog on me.
The wind in the trees
Isn't puffed for my hair,
But, what's left of it,
Feels it's stirrings
And I hope my body,
So close to the launch pad,
Doesn't hinder the gusts
Trying to set free a balloon.
I take comfort that the Cumulus
Is leaving nothing to chance,
It  has brought along
It's own blue heaven
To drift along in,
But I'm pretty sure
It would be doing it anyway,
And the river is not even flowing
In my direction,
Still, I will keep noticing things
Listening in to my life.
Someone up ahead calls out a name,
One that I have been known by,
But it wasn't meant for me,
Just another happy coincidence.

I haven't made the anthologies and journals,
My novel won't be in
The book stores any time soon,
My songs didn't get me a recording deal,
The screenplays never graced the big screen,
And I expect if I write you a last love note
It will suffer a similar fate.
And to think I had all the same letters
As everyone else
All I had to do was jiggle them around a bit,
Arrange  them in such a way
That they might mean something
To somebody.