Grieve for the lost days
passed with indifference.
Morn for missed moments
slipping quietly away.
We survived our lives
without being together,
And will continue the sameness
l'est we decide.
Yours is the choice.
Mine has been made.
Come forward to life
or rush back to bed.
It matters not once,
or a thousand times.
With motive so pure,
the pain is the same.
I know but cannot.
I reason. I hate.
Yours is the choice.
Mine has been made.
Michael E. Zets - 10/01/97