After Awhile, You Learn
                  
by Veronica A. Shortstall
After Awhile, You Learn

After a while you learn the difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning, and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts, and presents aren't promises.
And you begin to accept your defeats, with your head up and your eyes ahead with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.
And you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,
and futures have a way of falling down in midflight.
After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much of it.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
instead of waiting for somebody to bring you flowers.
And you learn
that you really can endure,
that you really are strong,
and you really do have worth.
And you learn.
And you learn.
With every goodbye, you learn.
I'll take ya back to The Boudoir