One day, you say,
you will quit that job
and pursue
that dream you had,
“when I was young,”
you say.

The funny thing is, listening to you
now, still in my mind; You are still
young and you are still dreaming.
You are still capable of changing.
You and I and whomever else
might still be
believing— in the self, now,
hurling forward toward the future;
We tempt it; We do. It is ours
and theirs—
but most importantly, yours.

One day, you say—
but one day, there won’t be
one day remaining to make good on
all the things that you and I
and whomever else;
All those things we were
going to do.

And the funny thing is
that this day, now,
is almost done. And you
are still waiting for a signal
to change.
The traffic light invites us all;
Make no mistake.
We all receive that RSVP.
Have guts enough
to return to sender
and take a different way.
One day, if you do, you will
thank me, yourself—
and whomever else
still believes— in the self.

narrative poem written on 08-27-2011 by: on mattkane.com
view image of poem


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