Someday I will be 20
someday, everything will start to make sense
these tears of mine that have filled this bucket
will fertilise something bountiful;
someday, my cup will runneth onward
the hour I become sober
someday you will remain here with me
no longer a distant memory
you see
someday, these words will have meaning
someday, I will dine with Camus and Socrates
when that day cometh
I will be 21,
by then, this poem will have become a song.
Does the sea still exist?
Are the ocean waters still colored blue
Or have they lust their luster and mystique
To climate change and what not?
I haven’t been this close to the sea in months:
COVID-19 has me hiding indoors
Look at me, social distancing from my Labrador
How can I worry about the environment
When I’m too lazy to make my bed?
I wonder if the fishes are lonely like me
My face mask is now my best friend, dare me to breathe
This noxious, germ-infested air
On everything I touch, even the clothes I wear
But neglect to change, because my light and water bills have gone on holiday
Soon I’ll be lighting candles just to stay awake
But, oh well, at least the sea remains.
PhilOyok 