So...What...Well

© 2000 by Fern Gordon

And what if today is the last tomorrow
Strings of hours, days and weeks,
Sliced, diced, cut totally through;
Dreams, schemes of another tomorrow
Fallen, plunging down among the stones.

Stones that grew and that stand beyond tomorrow --
Watching, guarding this shore for them.
They'll see many tomorrows
But for us there are but few.

So...why the comfort?
Why the soft smile you know is on your lips.
This silent, pleasant look of knowing.
What can it mean...what can it be?

Well...you see...
There surely will be again tomorrow
At another address, at another time.

Copyright 2000 by Fern Gordon. Duplication prohibited without author's permission.