Without a name; an unseen face
And knowing not your time nor place
Tomorrow’s Child, though yet unborn,
I met you first last Tuesday morn.
A wise friend introduced us two,
And through his shining point of view
I saw a day that would see
a day for you, but not for me.
Knowing you has changed my thinking,
For I never had an inkling
That perhaps the things I do
Might someday, somehow, threaten you.
Tomorrow’s Child, my daughter-son,
I’m afraid I’ve just begun
To think of you and of your good,
Though always having known I should.
Begin I will to weight the cost
Of what I squander; what is lost
I should never forget that you
Will someday come to live here too.
Poem by Glen Thomas
Acknowledgements to the Interface Carpet Company