Today is not the day.
Today is not the day,
but it is.
In a matter of hours I’ll be looking at her,
laying in her brand new bed.
It’s not as big as the one in her room,
but I was told that she looks like she’s sleeping.
I will try my best to keep it together
since she’ll be looking down,
but I can’t guarantee that my eyes or heart
will agree with my truest of intentions.
Today is not the day
that I view her for the last time.
It can’t be another encounter where
I talk but silence says something in return.
Today is not the day.
Today is not the day.
She isn’t really gone.
written September 4, 2016.