At the Diner

At the diner on Saturday,

I looked across the booth

And thought

One day,

Someday soon,

I’ll stare at my blank white ceiling

Laying on the mountain of pillows

And my only thought will be you.

They will not have even crossed my mind.

***

Because of Sunday,

When I am

At the Park on Monday,

I will look out across the hill,

And think,

No, it's not one day,

It's not someday soon,

That I'll stare at the open blue sky

With big white moving pillows

And my only thought will be you;

It's today.

This day is the someday soon.

That my only thought is you.

They haven't crossed my mind

In a while.