On the couch beneath a blanket
is how I'll spend this day
Wrapped up in distant memories
keeping grief and guilt at bay

The blanket's from the picnic,
the one we never had.
And the memories we never made,
'fore time ran out and this went bad.

But its how I spend my weekends,
draped in dreams of yesteryears.
Finding comfort in what-might-have-beens,
helps hold back all the tears.

One day I will get over this
come to terms with what I've lost
balance grief with life ahead
find acceptance of the cost

And when I'm ready I'll start over
with the lesson widows get taught
to seize each day in every way
because life really is too short.