Sunday, November 21, 2004


For every moment we love,
There's a pillow stained with tears.
For every hope we harbour,
There's a day we run in fear.
For every smile we come across,
There's a suicidal clown.
For every drug we swallow,
Eventually there's a come-down.
For every hurting child,
There's a parent with regret.
For every disappointment,
There's a promise we accept.
For every time we pray,
There's a sin which we commit.
For every truth we tell,
There's a portion we omit.
For every lover who ups and leaves,
There's always one who'll stay.
And for every sleepless night,
Don't forget there's always Sunday.


Blogger Another Point of You... said...

A new June 2002 version of my September 1999 poem - "The P.M. Side of Midnight."

I submitted this version into a poetry competition and had to chop it up so it could make the maximum twenty lines limit. It's not easy to rearrange a baby but sometimes these things have to be done.

2:09 AM  

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