Tomorrow will be better he said

As he gripped his silvery cane

He kept his walking stick close at hand

Though his knee no longer complained

Tomorrow will be better he said

Looking out across the street he knew

The friends he’d known now long since dead

Their lives remembered by few

Tomorrow will be better he said

When his wife comes finally home

Each winter stretched long the shadows

That reminded him that he was alone

Tomorrow will be better he said

When his daughter comes down his street

And replaces the flowers at his grave

Then allows herself to weep