I wonder
what kind of man
I’ll be today
from the boy
who was yesterday,

and simplicity says
that tomorrow
may have the answer
(since it’s what
I’d like to become)

but I still don’t get it most days,
after years and years of
listening to the wind
who sings the same
of stupidity and chance:

“Maybe open your eyes a little wider,”
she says,
“and the heart will hurt less.”



Copyright © 2018 John Grimmett. All rights reserved.

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