TOMORROW

is a space and time that I do not know.

It is easier predicting the lifespan

of things—how long 'till

a carton of milk expires or how fast

bananas age with spots.

But the warmth of a hand in mine

or the lingering wetness of a kiss

never wanes.

It just stays,

even when the hand has already died

and the lips have long dried.

READ
Paintings depict stories of heroism's ordinary face

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