Iced Tea

This is not going to be elegant,
nor polished, as sliver spoons.

I could write about your silly grin,
or the way you giggle at my jokes,

but tonight I feel the need to express
something far more deeper than darkness.

You saved me that day on the hill,
when black crows flocked upon our feet,
the day you said that you understood me.

I poured out my past like a glass of iced tea,
you drank every last word I shared,
accepting me for me, no judgement,

you sat there with this intense look in your eyes,
held my hand under an afternoon sun and said
"a lost soul deserves to be loved, just love me
as I so love you...."

So love please tell me, how am I supposed to swallow
the fact that your cancer has ignited like fire once again,
and will soon take the one person that truly believes in me?

No this is not elegant, and I'd rather be polishing spoons
then to have that glass of iced tea sit empty at our table....