45*21

why, with all the murky madness
tomorrow's another day
they say
and the children of yesterday will talk
and they will not know
but tomorrow returns
on a disc of today
we drown our sorrows
in any elixir possible
smoke it away too
there is no disappearing act
only finality
it is a whisper away
and yet new life comes into being
and we are thankful
and it lasts
and we take care of it
and so happy to
even the gruffest of us knows
the sorrow it takes to live
and we age