The Future
The future may be black
Or it may be blue.
The distant, burning yellow stars,
Which pulse with a dying light,
May be closer than we think.
Unanswered questions,
Which have bothered us like flies,
May soon be answered,
But who’s to say we will like what we see?
Time is an unstoppable train,
And we are merely passengers.
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.