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  • My yesterdays are not the days ahead,
    for all the errs of yesterday are past.
    My future is the sonnet yet unread.

    Unlike so many men who lie abed,
    As if their souls were bound within a cast,
    My yesterdays are not the days ahead.

    There are within me poems left unsaid,
    and places yet unseen, all wonders vast.
    My future is the sonnet yet unread.

    Each day a revelation fills my head,
    and every moment brings a fresh repast.
    My yesterdays are not the days ahead.

    Where are the paths of wonder I will tread?
    Will days before me travel slow or fast?
    My future is the sonnet yet unread.

    My past mistakes were moments I misread,
    and while my roles have often been miscast.
    My yesterdays are not the days ahead,
    My future is the sonnet yet unread.

    ~Fred~

    February 2011
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