Tomorrow Is Too Late

Do you have a tomorrow I could borrow?
I wasted today on all of my silly sorrow
My weathered ship waves the flag of Sunk Cost
For all the maps and stars, I am still lost
One night I got buried in a constellation
Right off the coast of some stubborn nation
One day whiskey waves washed a weary sailor overboard
Shortly after, it rained; and forevermore it poured
He sung out of naivety, and swam out of necessity
He became nostalgic, shivering, wild, anxiously giddy
He recalled occasionally, hopeful words from empty cisterns
He lamented how he called them his brothers and sisters
He flung his arms, sobbed, and lost his breath
This wasn’t the first time he was taunted by death
Is life any different from walking the gangplank
He longed for the fresh water he once had drank
He would give up all his yesterdays, to borrow tomorrow
Wait. Is that an eagle? A dove? A hallucination or a sparrow?
Staring deliriously into the cunning, blinding sun
Like looking down the barrel of an endless gun
He had not realized the sunk costline had neared
This is everything that, and the opposite of what he feared
Tickled toes and paranoia. But no shark present, it was sand!
Help at last! It was time for him to take a stand
Ah, the relief of solid ground beneath the feet
Suddenly realizing, this was no rescue — this was defeat
For the sand was quick. As quick as could be
And so the Sunken Coast finally set him free