One Day

It is the day too far off
to be considered real.

It is the day my father promised me
whenever I asked for something
he could not give me.

It is the day to hope for,
the day all prayers will be answered.

It is the inevitable day
that blindly follows orders.

It is the day I sent two letters to:
the first inviting it to hurry up;
the second begging it to take its time.

When or whether ever 
those letters will arrive, 
God only knows.

But by the end of today 
it will be the only day 
I know for certain
wasn’t yesterday.

Kip Knott | The End of Winter
Contents | Mudlark No. 50 (2013)