It has but begun, and mornin sun
Has yet to scorch the squalid sky
And chirping birds, aft doth fly
Asketh thou in the evenin, when day has run….

How went thy day, o warrior great
In anonymity, in mere mediocrity
And how we spent an hour or eight
waiting, just waiting with alacrity..

With shaded, eyes searching, searching
For the sun, amidst the clouds dark and mean
For the velvet sky, and the birds perching
And every other thing i thought i had seen…

Ragged breaths, with the innocent morning mist,
Furrowed brows, and with a limp wrist
What good came of today? Who knows how it was spent?
Tomorrow, I will know, how my today went…