How To Count The Days

I measure my age in how many tomorrows become yesterdays

Memories count the years while fear counts the months

I recall feeling my mothers hand wrinkle as I held it over the years

Weathered from countless seasons changed and not enough tomorrows

She taught me that beautiful sunrises meant better days ahead

And that from cotton candy skies came magical nights

For too many todays, did I curse the sun that would rise without you under it

But without it, how would red roses bloom?

The pain of living shall never outweigh our need to be loved

Even though I know tomorrows are never promised

I will miss you everyday