Each time we part,
it is like an affirmation:
that we will see each other
again;
it is a hope, it is
a promise,
it is a guarantee.
Yet I must face the fact
that one day, it will
be a simple farewell,
because then –
our days together will have run
out.
On one hand waiting for the next
“tomorrow”;
on the other dreading the
finality of the past,
the austere future,
which instead tell me:
these little tomorrows
will one day be but
lost yesterdays.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
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One Art, to recognize, must be,
Another Art to Praise.
- Emily Dickinson