Sometimes, tomorrow doesn't come--
And yesterday is all there is to feed upon.
Sometimes, the meal that is served
Is stale and without flavor--
For memories lose their appeal
Over time, without air to breathe.
Today is all that is promised--
All that there is.
It is a shining jewel to be treasured,
Protected from the faults of yesterday
And the blank canvas of tomorrow.
For us, my dear, that means
Sitting quietly in the moment,
Making memories to savor now--
Before the ailing mind can erase
Our years of commitment together.
Progress is seen in a positive vein--
But for me, progress is despairing rain,
For you will say goodbye long before
All of the todays are done drying in the sun.
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