My eyes long to see the places I remember.
My eyes ache to see the empty lots where many once stood.
My eyes wish to see the people of my past surround me.
My eyes see history being made and history being forgotten.

My heart longs to feel the warmth of a stove fire.
My heart aches to feel the days go by and nothing happen.
My heart wishes to feel the love it once did.
My heart feels history being made and history being forgotten.

My soul longs to hear the sounds of a carriage bumping down the road.
My soul aches to go back home, to a house now barely holding itself up.
My soul wishes to sing old hymns like there is no tomorrow.

But there is.
There is tomorrow.
And in tomorrow, days past don’t matter.

But they should.
They should matter.
Because days past made tomorrow possible.