Closer

Two-thousand plus twenty-two,
a number closer than twenty-one.
Unto time unknown, tis true,
to that different day under the sun.

Our fathers longed to see it,
now asleep in graves they wait.
Waiting, we’re still living -
Living, we anticipate.

Wearisome is the delay.
It is easier to forget,
to be drunk on sound and fury,
to live one’s day in bed.

Shake off your slumber,
count what lies ahead.
Winter will yield to Summer,
for Tomorrow is closer yet.