Tomorrow Will Never Come

Yet early, opportunities abound.
Humming or moaning through loosened teeth.
Head is withering and banking with spirit, left and right.
Emptiness crawls through eyes that are ready for lively green.
Where does this come from, this sliver of light?
Hope. Tomorrow may well be smooth survival.
Tomorrow, hands will go out often and with warmth as offerings.
Some I encounter will take away experience and found hope. Joy.
I will play the part in the hospital, covered with creamy white petals.
Steadily inform the operators that I must get back to my hapless life.
People are counting on me. Ha-ha, tee-hee, ho-ho.
But tonight I am allowed to read the most delicious stuff.

Late to the game, but I thought I might submit this for One Shot Wednesday. Check out the fine art over there!