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