A Someday Man

I’m a mundane man,

I’m a someday man,

A thinker,

A dreamer,

An idea kind of man,

A collector of dreams,

Or, the ones I prize most,

Locked up in a box,

In my hands, in my throat,

I look to the day they’ll wake up,

and talk.

And walk,

And boast,

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Yet such dreams do not speak,

And upon closer inspection,

Of my own dereliction,

I find that my thoughts,

stowed away in a box,

Have awoken, and fled,

(Though without my permission!)

And so such dreams, once prized,

Left long in darkness, turned blind,

Forever haunted by bad first impressions,

took leave, and resigned.

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I’m a timid man,

An omitted man,

A “can’t quit if I didn’t commit” kind of man,

I’ll get to it later - tomorrow’s the plan,

There’s plenty of time, can’t you see nothing’s lost?

If only I don’t look inside of the box.

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