I have lived each day,
As though there were no tomorrow,
I could never see it there,
Through the mist or the trees,
Yet I feel my yesterdays,
Haunting me,
Like the ghost of a child,
With its high keening wail,
The one that sends fear,
Coursing through a mother’s veins…

I have lost all tomorrow’s,
For I feel them
Slipping through my fingers,
Escaping my grasp,
No matter how tightly,
I close my fingers,
And I hear then
The gentle whisper of
His voice asking;

“Then what of the future?
Of you and me,
Of all the things
You planned to be?

His questions slay me-
I have no answer,
I let the day come,
I let it play what tune it may,
How do I plan for what will never be?

How do I tell him?
This gentle man,
Who still believes in dreams,
The days flow like a river,
Washing over stones,
Wearing them thin,
As I am worn,
Who am I to stay the day?
Halt the passing of tomorrow?
Before it fades into yesterday…

Yet,
His eyes haunt me,
His voice I hear in my ears,
The laughter I hear in my dreams,
Making me rise with a smile
On my lips…
And I wonder,
If just this once,
I dare hope to peek,
Catch a glimpse of something sweet…

Wonder if I dare,
To love today,
No,
To love now…
And maybe tomorrow too…