The promise of tomorrow
is laden with hope.
Sprinkled with gusto,
dipped in
golden idealism.

Tomorrow, an honest excuse.
A good time to see you,
a good time to
have time to lose.

Tomorrow will come
sopping wet
with the promises
of yesterday.
Wring it all out and
let's splash in the puddle.
I'll take my boots off,
I promise.

Tomorrow will feel
just like today, except...

Except tomorrow I'll have you.
Tomorrow,
you'll have me too.



Tomorrow will shimmer
with the glimmering late-June sun,
and we'll spend it it together wishing
that another tomorrow
will never come.