Tomorrow.

That elusive day.

Always beckoning, promising, wooing. Like a temptress with hair spread in a slow-moving halo, arms drawn out, calling with silent words and meaningful gazes.

Hope glistens in her gown. Opportunity her jewels. Permission painted on her lips.

But she, the Temptress Tomorrow, cheats us of Today.

They war, these sisters.

Warring over our hearts, our time, our breath.

The promises of Tomorrow are whispers of nothing.

But Today holds true gold. It’s her crown. Honesty. Her heart beats with the tink-tink of the falling sand, counting down to the end of the day.

The long, long day.

Today smiles with that longing look, wishing we could see beyond the persuasion of Tomorrow, and grasp what’s right in front of us.

Right now.

Here.

But we look past her.

To what will never come.

And miss Today’s gifts.