Earlier today I blew three hundred bucks I didnít have on the Internet, buying clothes I doubt Iíll ever wear. Then I went out to pick up the latest, greatest CD and ordered CrŤme Brule, which I ate alone on my deck in the summer sunshine.
I guess it was all okay, but the truth is
my heart pulls me back to yesterday.
I have never been happier than when we shopped at secondhand stores and ate Ramen noodles every day for lunch and made love in the afternoon, listening to Cat Stevens singing on the stereo against the rhythm of a heavy rain outside.
Will there be a tomorrow beyond memories
that fill me with such intense sorrow?
Love came for me again, you know. It follows me wherever I go, but he stays right where he is, as he must, and he hates me for what I feel. In dreams he finds his way to me by grace, lifted by Godís gentle hand, cradled safe and carried on a tender wind.
What was can never be and what is
will not leave me be. What will be? What will be?