Yesterday

Yesterday,

As the Beetles said

It seemed so far away.

I believed in yesterday.

 

I wrote my poems

Called myself Jude because I once had prayed

That if I called my self Jude

My fears would go far away.

 

I, as the Beetles said,

Believed in Yesterday.

 

Then they did not go away

When I believed in Yesterday.

Instead they came, and were strong despite the lay

Saying “Why did you just not believe in yesterday?”

 

Like the play I watched

There so British and so bright and gay,

Where happy things were dwelt on to say,

Why I believed in Yesterday.

 

See I’m not the Beetles because I want to be…

It’s just because I wrote my piece.

If markets were to govern me

I would lose what is yesterday.

 

They would say, “You stole my melody,”

They’d say, “You stole my title piece.”

But my stories are a part of me,

They are quotations of a certain way

Of why I believed in Yesterday.

 

Wordsworth, also, knows I wrote the songs

When he wrote of Sauraman,

Because we believed in Yesterday.—

And I have to write and say

That my songs are mine to play

When I believed in Yesterday.