Why don’t we set aside for a day
Our search for variety and have lunch
At the same café where we had lunch yesterday
And order the same avocado and Gouda sandwich
On whole wheat bread, toasted and buttered?
Why don’t we stroll again after lunch
To the river and back? I’ll be glad to interpret
Your wearing the blouse you wore yesterday
As a sign you’re still the person I think you are,
That this is the walk you want to take,
The one you didn’t get your fill of before.
And later, why don’t we hope for a sunset
That duplicates the valiant effort of yesterday:
Enough clouds for the light to play with,
Despite a haze that dims the hues?
Isn’t the insight worth repeating
That the end of the day may show itself
To be just as colorful as the beginning,
That a fine beginning isn’t a veil
That the end is destined to strip away?
The same words, but yesterday
They may have sounded a little tentative,
As if we weren’t sure we were ready
To stand behind them. Now if we choose
To repeat them, it means we are.