Pako Aristi - Eight poems

I've grown a gifted perfect-day schemer.

Scheduling where and with whom to spend those significant dates is my weakness.

It'll be a bright sunny day,

we'll breathe the most thrilling tale my fancy may concoct,

and our troubles will lay behind and solve on their own,

as though this perfect day had borne our imprint

all through the thousand years,

patiently awaiting us.

But when the big day breaks in,

I find it lacklustre,

and my mood drained of the strength to deal with the myriad arrangements of the day.

And by the time tomorrow meets today,

it will simply be spoiled,

to resemble the aftermath of St. Patrick's Day,

as if my natural realm were but

that thrilling story hopeless to fulfil itself.