The Morning After

If we spent our last day in this place

We would have to capture the feeling—

If there were moments left in this life

We would have to search for meaning.

The whole world could be on fire,

But the flames would only light the way

To the places we have always believed in.

Bring back fairy tales—clocks strike twelve

And we run away, scared if we don’t.

There is no morning after just an endless night

And all the faces that have come with us.

But I have the good feeling that you don’t.

Your voice is forgetful, the words disappear—

And know you will never get them back;

Regret only the words that never stuck. 

     DannYetman

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com