evenings are wistful,
And both lull us in different ways.
One with the peaceful promise
of a beginning; a fresh start.
The other with celebratory
offerings that fold
day into night,
present into past,
do's into done's,
And a reminder that this is not forever.
This is just for now.
Whatever dreams left not chased today,
Will linger there tomorrow.
And we breathe.
Because so many live
to make it through those hours
nestled between,
forgetting that life isn't
measured in goals.
Or do's.
Or should have's.
It's measured in steps,
and journeys.
In laughter.
In promise.
We all breathe.
Because we look around...
And we remember.
By: Elizabeth N. Schmidt
