On lonely nights like today,
I feel like harking back to yesterday,
While jumping forth to morrow.
As I long nostalgically for the hallowed past,
I regret not having romantic company in the present,
All the same imagining a curiously frisky future.
The old me was the mellow kind,
The current me, reeking with all sorts of erratic,
Hoping the me of hereafter is statesmanlike.
The wheels are constantly turning,
Tonight’s converging with tomorrow,
And tomorrow making way for the future.
The loneliness has started eroding,
Life’s sweetness and warmth is on an upward trajectory,
All the things in the universe seem to be hinting at a shiny new future.
But mum’s the word, everyone,
I don’t want to jinx it,
Before the future has even bloomed,
For even though superstitious I am not,
Today I still remain an incongruous, skeptical type.