FOR ALL OUR LOST TOMORROWS
Through all the long strong seasons of the moon
I’ve wandered wistful, yearning for his touch.
In all the empty spaces placed in front of me
where he can never be, I mourn.
For all the poems he will never share,
for secrets, songs and sounds he’ll never know,
and for the moon that shone in glory when he died
I’ve cried the many months since he was gone.
Through all the bright bold silvered nights
the moon has dressed in loveliness he’ll never see,
and all our lost tomorrows wrapped in sorrow
I will still love him tenderly.
KATHLEEN EARSMAN 2004