If You Die Tomorrow

I looked up at the cotton-ball clouds tonight,
Pasted to the darkened sky like kindergarten art,
And I thought of eternity
And how brief life really is.

My musings drifted to you and your animated smile;
Sometimes I would do anything just to see it.
My hand hovered over my pocket
But my cell phone battery was dead.

Mad possibilities churned inside my head.
Flashes of what could happen, calls I might be missing.
“Car accident?” I’d ask, nauseated, shaking,
Unable, unwilling to believe that you were actually gone.

Like a dream where you’re falling, down, down,
Only to wake up, filled with stark relief that the world’s still turning
And everything’s as it should be
Except the fear of what tomorrow will bring
and what today will not.

The last conversation would never be the right one.
Every word would be planned out in my mind, the perfect goodbye
Everything that I won’t get a chance to tell you
If you die tomorrow.