"The Old Story"
By Andrea Donaldson

"Tomorrow," he promised his conscience,

"Tomorrow I mean to be good;

Tomorrow I'll think as I ought to;

Tomorrow I'll do as I should;

Tomorrow I'll conquer the habits –

 That hold me from heaven away."

But never his conscience repeated

One word and one only "Today"

 Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow –

thus day after day it went on;

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow –

till youth like a vision was gone,

Till age and his passions had written

the message of fate on his brow,

And forth from the shadows came death

with the pitiless syllable - "Now."

© 2007 A Donaldson

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