Tomorrowland - A Poem

There is this land, you all know, and you slightly dread,
The land in which you get off the sofa and early out of bed.
Procrastinators’ dream it is, no frenzy, fear or hurry,
Have to rule today, for the rule is: tomorrow’s time to worry.
 
The bills piling up until the ceiling, nearly toppling down,
Your favourite TV show on tonight, putting upside down your frown.
Updating your CV is on and letters you should write too,
But when you’re feeling oh so tired, rest is good, it’s true.
 
Your gym bag is already dusty? You should really go,
A friend is writing, "coffee now?" You can’t really say no...
You could of course sit down and write the things you really should,
Or you watch videos on Youtube, it is simply too good.
From there you find the puppy videos and kittens all galore,
And when you check your clock again, it's already way past four.
 
You could practice the guitar, practice down until your bones,
Or…you could, you know, as well watch the latest Game of Thrones.
The flat is grimy, you just sigh, it really does need cleaning,
But then your evening show’s to start, again it’s intervening.
The bank needs calling, the doctor waits and you should sort it out,
Today you’re tired, your back is hurting, tomorrow’s time, no doubt.
 
Tomorrow you will be your best, get early up and work,
You’ll clean the flat and read a book and meet up with the bank clerk.
You will play the guitar and write about all the things you should,
And if there’s time you’ll cleanse your skin, a mask also would be good.
Tomorrow will be fine, you know, the day you’ll sort it out,
Tomorrow creativity will flow, the end of an endless drought.
 
Tomorrowland has space for this, the tasks you always dread,
Like reading the police’s letter because you ran a red.
In it you will meet with the lawyer or finally go to the bank,
It is the land of anxiety and pain, if I must be frank.

​But, don’t you worry about it now, tomorrow there’s a fix,
And, who knows, tomorrow you might be working late till six.
It is the land of all worries, fear and sorrow,
But don’t fret just now and remember, you can always deal with it tomorrow. 

If you liked this poem, you may also enjoy the posts below: 

On the village man with his toy: A poem

The Things we may all do...

Tongue twister edition (A)