Good Day

A day was taken without pleasure or reward,
A day endured, rather than a day lived,
A day that opened the wrong door and saw itself out.

Night grappled the day until it turned purple
And day became like the night
Full of dark with a tease of light. 

I wanted the day carved into me
So memory could not fail me,
So I could always have it within me.

I wanted a day of fullness,
A day of remembrance,
A day embraced, not walked past. 

Let there be happy days,
Sad days, hard days,
But not an empty day, a forgotten day.

Night, release the day;
I’ll have you too
But I must have my light. 

I dip my hands in it,
Panning for meaning,
Searching for life. 

Good night, I whisper
As I look forward to its response:
Another good day.