Wishful Thinking

She reaches through the mist

Clutching at tomorrow.

A light touch, a warm embrace,

And all that brings her sorrow.

"I want so much to see it,

to know it!" she gasps.

But it slips through her fingers,

Evading her yearning grasp.

And as it leaps and flutters

Dancing e'er away,

She realizes to reach tomorrow,

She must survive today.

                                                            © Helen Lake 2-2-98

 

ATTENTION: This poem has been published in an anthology called "A Falling Star" August 2001. I submitted the poem through Poetry.com

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