“The Tomorrow” by M. Golda Turner

This poem by M. Golda Turner was a first place winner in the 2023 Golden Quill Writing Contest.

I earned my sea legs at the age of three,
Coursing the Gulf, our small family.
The Tomorrow was our ocean home,
A yacht with bed and bath to roam.
She cut into cresting waves so strong,
To worthy adventures far and long.
We often anchored at sunny midday,
In the blue waters to splash and play.
I learned to float and then to swim,
And run the rocking boat on a whim.
By the time my birthday cake said five,
My dad had taught me how to dive.
Our favorite day toward the end,
We anchored on an island bend.
The beach spread wide, sanded in white,
Nestled between palm trees and clear water delight.
We floated on rings with bright fish below,
Then put on some snorkels and said hello.

We called it Our Little Paradise.

For two years after, we lived on the land,
I went to school and played in the sand.
In kindergarten, I grew in the light.
I learned in first grade to read and write.
Dad told us he missed the sea,
It was time for The Tomorrow’s liberty.
We packed summer clothes and went to the dock,
Where she waited beside a small seagull flock.
Our Little Paradise was the course we set,
In a few days we arrived, used to the wet.
While Mom and I sat on our balmy white beach,
Dad climbed for a coconut out of reach.
We hiked to find him just off the shore,
His head on a rock and nothing more.
It was the day I turned seven,
That my dad floated to heaven.
We slumped in the jungle forest, shedding our tears,
I didn’t know it was only the start of Mom’s fears.

Our Little Paradise clouded over.

He wanted a burial at sea, she cried,
But he kept coming back because of the tide.
I watched Mom dig a great big hole,
We had a ceremony and placed a marker pole.
I asked Mom when we’d go home,
Tomorrow, she whispered, staring at sea foam.
The next day, she hardly talked,
I built sand castles and slowly walked.
After a week, I asked when can we go,
Like before, she told me tomorrow.
More days passed and I went to Dad’s tomb,
I shared with him my feelings of gloom.
The stars of the evening shone lively and bright,
I swam to our boat and turned on the light.
I discovered a can of red spray paint,
And held it as though I’d found a saint.
In the morning, the yacht shined in the bay.
In letters sprayed bold, I had renamed it Today.

We blew kisses as we left Our Little Paradise.


M. Golda Turner lawyered for years as a public defender in Northern California. Now she lives and writes in San Luis Obispo County. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in One Universe to the LeftVision and Verse, and Kelp Journal. She was the winner of the 2023 Golden Quill Writing Contest for poetry.