Perhaps Tomorrow By April Davis A promise of hope beyond the tomb, Brings us comfort with each new bloom Birds sing sweetly day & night, Their symphonies of calm delight The earth arises from long its slumber, Rain mixes tears and cries become thunder With the spring comes morning and its dew, Summer nights from wince withdrew But Oh the sorrow that does cling, Like black among a raven's wing The winter grip begins its fade, With springtime here, a chance to evade The changing season bearing a cost, forced to ignore what is lost Sunset hues of pink and gold, Gives birth to hope, but never told Haunted by words we shift and swallow, We find our way, but perhaps tomorrow.
Sometimes it's crazy. Sometimes it's calm.