When you're not here tomorrow,
the terracotta sun will sink,
beneath the curve of a darkening world,
and this eternal day will end with a blink.
Tucked behind the stars,
safely hidden away,
you'll smile down on me while I lie on the roof,
and I will whisper, "stay."
When you're not here tomorrow,
the day will eventually end,
with me recounting the life we shared
as two sisters, as two friends.
I'll spend all night on that rooftop,
as twilight eases into day.
Eventually, you'll have to go,
and I will whisper "stay."
YOU ARE READING
When You're Not Here Tomorrow
PoetryAn homage to all those left behind by those taken too soon.
