Love … Tomorrow

I loved you yesterday 

I love you today 

But, can I 

love you tomorrow 

Loving you yesterday 

requires no effort 

It has happened 

It is a constant source 

of joy in my life 

All the smiles 

the laughter 

the tears 

the strength 

have all passed 

like the winds swirling 

around and past me 

Loving you today 

While it is not simple 

it is the great joy 

of my life 

It is still the wind 

not swirling past 

but lifting me daily 

It is my foundation 

my stillpoint 

my lifeline 

You are my tether 

tying my heart 

to today 

Without your love today

I would drift 

like a feather 

in the wind 

Can I love you 

tomorrow 

Standing in the breeze 

at the end of the day 

feeling the love of the past 

leaning on the love of today 

there is a hope for tomorrow 

Tomorrow brings challenges 

It carries uncertainty 

There is apprehension 

but there is anticipation 

Tomorrow offers a new slate 

Yesterday is gone 

Today is fading 

Tomorrow is what I see 

I need to love you 

tomorrow 

I need the wind 

I need the tether 

I need to love you 

tomorrow 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

March 13, 2026 

The Porch

Before the city awakens 

Long before 

the sound of traffic 

replaces the quiet 

In the quiet of the morning 

I sit where the evening 

left its stories 

The porch is a collector of stories 

holding memories 

holding truths 

convenient or inconvenient 

holding community 

Dates ending 

Family gatherings 

Pictures before the prom 

A wedding or two 

laughter 

debates 

arguments 

advice 

confessions 

quiet love 

wordless moments 

The porch has listened 

and soaked 

and now shares 

Sitting quietly 

feeling that energy 

the residual emotion 

the boards remember 

the railings echo it 

the porch 

still telling stories 

This porch 

has heard things 

never meant 

for the street 

the railings 

have held 

trembling hands  

the steps 

have caught 

falling tears 

Not everyone 

who steps here 

becomes one 

of the ‘porch people’ 

some only visited 

some passed through 

and one stood 

on the sidewalk 

by the road 

close enough 

to hear the laughter  

never welcome on the boards 

but those who do 

carry the stories with them 

long after they leave 

The porch has listened 

through summer laughter 

and winter breath 

through jackets pulled tight 

and fireflies drifting past the railings 

Every porch keeps a future 

just as it keeps a past 

and those who sit long enough

begin to hear both 

Come sit on the porch 

See where you fit 

Add to the stories 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

March 10, 2026

Shared Grace

It’s odd 

how we speak of society 

as if it were something fragile 

that the other side might break. 

As if it isn’t already held together 

by people who disagree.

The road does not ask 

how I voted. 

The lights do not dim 

over doctrine. 

Water runs 

without checking allegiance. 

Somewhere, 

a stranger’s hands 

steady my day 

before I notice.

We have grown loud 

about difference, 

but quiet 

about dependence.

 

Perhaps nothing collapses 

all at once; 

perhaps it happens 

when we forget 

how much of our living 

is borrowed.

The table grows smaller 

when we are "right." 

I have felt that heat rise, 

have watched the air thin between us 

until the door closes 

and stays closed. 

So I step away 

when the temperature climbs. 

Not to sever, 

not to score a point, 

but to cool—

and to come back. 

Not because I have surrendered, 

nor because you have, 

but because the conversation 

is worth more than the moment.

© Ron Simpson Jr