A promise, is a song; a silent song.
Then a refrain, a soon to arrive,
when it arrives it brings along a crowned gift
But when it doesn’t, it is a livid distorted record.
A promise is a riddle
An aligned fauxed theory
taking shape, it might as well bend a glass;
not before it shutters or severs a vein.
A promise is an egg I lay,
one that floats before your eyes,
the other that sinks; the other that hatches.
All this is can be fuzz, I snap out of it
to see the world for what it is.
It is a broom, dirt and the cleaner all the same
a promise is only seconds filled with words;
a grain sprouting inside a bird’s nest.
A promise is a senseless dream.
It goes on unaware am a wake,
watching it like a play on stage.
But who is liable for a broken promise?
I haven’t heard of a policy to secure it.
Only hearts take the blame,
but a promise is wind.
A poem by Tonny Wandella