The Last Supper
I read that book
I made myself
I didn't want to
But I did it
I saw the things you
You told me these things
I didn't want to
To see these things then
I don't want to see them
Now I want to keep going
If we can't return, turn
Back the way it was back
Back away from what's coming
I hurt
I hurt that you hurt
I don't want you to hurt
I don't want you to go
Why are you going to
To, why are you going
I can't say it
One year to go
I wanted twenty-three years
I wanted forty, or fifty
Was that too much to ask?
That book that I read
You breath well
You breath well
We got in the van
And we went for a drive
Down the highway to the store
The store in the lobby of
Well, you know where the store is
We bought you a hat
Fuschia, pink, wide brimmed
The cost was for three of what I could buy
The cost was nothing
It was nothing
Will you ask for a last supper?
Fried chicken with mashed potatoes and corn
Or spaghetti with meat sauce?
Will I be so happy to see you eat
That I miss what's going on
Or will I realize what is happening
And serve you a meal with tears
That I keep back behind my eyes
So there's not too much salt in your food?
Food binds us together
Food is an expression of love
Twenty-two years
Was twenty-three really too much?
copyright (C) 2012 christopher w neal all rights reserved