Maybe today was the time,
not yesterday,
and sunset becomes the beginning.
Maybe this was the time,
not before,
or long ago,
and today became the only.
Sunrise looks on sweetly,
but knows nothing of the day before it,
and the day before it is,
the living to be done.
Looking on is wishes,
looking back is what was,
and truth becomes the morning.
Hoping was nice in it's time,
and everyone has a tomorrow dream,
but Certainty has it's place,
and Reality can't be taken,
and nothing dashes knowing,
like the dreams of a child,
waking to an empty Christmas.
So maybe today was the time,
not tomorrow,
and yesterday was already.
But maybe today was the best of it all,
maybe this was the time,
and I missed it.