by Alan David Pritchard

Created on: October 29, 2008

Neither will tomorrow

This may not feel like the best time,

but neither will tomorrow.

We'll fumble through this

somehow, borrow

what we can from yesterday's

leftovers: a row here,

a mood-plunge there. Sorrow,

worn like threadbare overalls

grown and sewn into,

has served us well before.

Our second gone; nights too long

to wade through; the song

of unbearable silence

this, these

Oh, God, I know, I know, I know.

I'm here, baby, take my hand.

Turn from the stones, stand close,

stand.

This may not feel like the best time

But neither will tomorrow.

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