I just finished this poem this morning. I hope it speaks to you!
The summer clouds were like
all the ‘Somedays’ I’d ever uttered –
so lovely and always drifting by.
Whole days passed easily
lying back in the grass
admiring their forms.
Tomorrow, I’d say.
Tomorrow will be the day
I pluck a Someday out of the sky
and really begin my life.
But when tomorrow came
it all began again
the way it had the day before.
Someday becomes a habit, you know?
Until one day, I don’t know why –
perhaps age, perhaps grace –
something changed
and I got up and began.
Uncertainly, awkwardly, imperfectly –
but I began.
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