Dreaming of Tomorrow

Someday.

They said it like a promise they don't intend to keep. Someday we'll leave this town.

And I tally all the hours I work in the dirt.

Mama swore to me so many years ago.

But I'm still counting.

Someday.

I have my doubts of its existence.

Maybe it's just a word to distract me from the misery.

The same as"okay" or "it is well."

And we never really mean it.

Someday.

Mama boasted of my potential,

claimed I was capable for more than laundry and cooking

but I sit by the river with a dressing gown,

never knowing what if it's true.