Tomorrow arrived yesterday,               

and no one knew the difference.

It’s like that when you’re in the clouds

and clods plod by.

Seeking solace in the sounds of nothing.

Seeking something nothing can buy.

So by and by you question tomorrow/yesterday.

‘Is it true, tomorrow, you arrived today?’

Yesterday hardly defers, she has a sense of history.

‘I was tomorrow once.’ She sighs.

‘But somehow that went and left me gone.

How can that be, I was this and now am that?

Who winds these clocks, makes time pass?

Shrinks the now to nothing and labels

me fallen from grace:

tomorrow full of promise to be-

to be the past.

What fool invented time?

Did he have so much on his hands

 he thought,

‘Here’s a pretty game,

to ruin lives, fray tempers, end lives.

Time, each tick tock they waste, I’ll make regret.

Look at the time, don’t you know what time it is?’

Tick tock, tick tock.’

Lovers who would meet tomorrow,

will now never know each other,

since Father Time,

from boredom or malice

 has moved tomorrow into yesterday.

‘But it’s today.’ I say.

‘Yes, but today is still yesterday,

if you’re looking from tomorrow,

where I’m from,

it’s all relative.

Look at the time,

I must away before I run into the tomorrow.’

‘But you are tomorrow.’

‘Not when I’m moved into yesterday.

Yes relatively,

merely named tomorrow.

Today, tomorrow, yesterday, all are one.

Time to be away.’