The Plan

Of a forgotten year, there’s a memory I recall
Of a few bright stars in the school’s felicitation hall,
I scuffled for space in the corner of an aisle
To cheer for Maria as she picked her prize with a smile.

I asked Maria out but she didn’t care two pence,
Seek friends among equals, she said with insolence.
An injured ego and a broken heart then drew a plan:
‘Tomorrow I’ll be something, for I know that I can’.

In the name of inspiration, arose evasion tactics,
When I stacked heroic biographies and motivational flicks,
And in the dead of the night, a rendezvous with my dreams
Would assure me that success is as easy as it seems.

Days run into years, and years into a decade,
A hundred resolves broken, a thousand others made,
I still sneak out the paper that contains the old plan,
Saying ‘Tomorrow I’ll be something, for I know that I can’.

Life moves in a rut, resolves get difficult to keep,
I try dreaming big, but simply drift into sleep.
Tomorrow I’ll be something, and I know that I can,
But defining the ‘something’ is the next part of my plan.

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