Next Year

Next year.

When we moved into the new apartment,
It was to be a temporary thing.
Next year, I will get back up on my feet,
and when I can walk proper and can fling
this cane into the trash where it belongs,
I will get us into a proper home.
A room for each kiddo, with a big yard,
A white picket fence, a Garden, a gnome…
I can see it now, just waiting for us…
Next year, when we have a bit more cash saved,
and my credit score looks a bit better,
we will finally get what we have craved!

No, It’s just a temporary setback,
I continue to have full faith, My dear,
That you and I will move the family
We must be patient…It will come next year…

Ten years have passed since that first assurance
and I have yet to figure out a way
to get my family into a home
where we are safe at the end of the day,
from rot, mold, slums, junkies, and all the like…
It weighs on my heart! It crushes my soul!
That the years are slipping away quickly,
and I still haven’t achieved this one goal…

All I wanted was a house and a yard
for the kids to make all their memories
that they could hold dear when they became grown,
but now I begin to doubt whether these
are ever going to be near my grasp,
and if I have in fact wasted my years
seeking a dream far beyond my station
losing myself in my own doubts and fears…

To strive for much, and achieve so little,
yet enslave oneself, it hardly seems fair
when the slavery is for naught…and yet…
It's a burden that a father must bear…
So, what can I do, but lie to myself,
and try to smile through the fears and tears,
and make that promise I know I can’t keep,
When I tell them again…Next year…Next Year…

  © Jeremy L. Heath, 2025. All rights reserved.