Tomorrow is another day; as yet, untouched, all fresh and new;
no footsteps in the mist, no whispered memory... no thoughts of you.
Tomorrow then, perhaps, to feel the shadows softly slip away;
Tomorrow then, perhaps, to walk out in the Sun...
but, not today.

Tomorrow is another day; a bright new page in time, and space;
perhaps, tomorrow, I may not recall your smile... your voice... your face.
Perhaps, tomorrow, thoughts of what we might have been, will fade away;
Tomorrow, then, perhaps, to turn the page at last...
but, not today.

Tomorrow is another day; and yet, its promise is the same
as yesterday
for you are ever there, and, always, you remain
somewhere in my thoughts... a tender, sweet, unfinished Symphony,
Perhaps, tomorrow, I can write the last few notes...
but, not today.

Tomorrow is another day; for now, your memory lingers still,
and tip-toes softly through my heart... and, I suppose it always will;
The echo of a long-lost love; how strange, such memories still stray;
Tomorrow, perhaps, I might lay your Ghost to rest...
but, not today.

Tomorrow is another day; and yet, I know what it will hold.
No bright, warm flame of love; but, in its place... the spent, grey ashes...
cold,
of what was once, so nearly "Us." How did it fade, and slip away?
Tomorrow, perhaps, you could please set free my heart...
but, not today.