Friend:
Thanks for the hugs
for the laughs
for the tears
for the secrets
for the love.
Thanks for the flowers
for the artwork
for the books
and for those cookies
I never got.
I’ll get them someday, probably.
In the meantime I’ll survive
on the music of your laugh
the water of your tears
the hope behind your eyes
the feast of pain, love, life.
Did you know it tastes like soup?
Life, that is.
Want to know what kind?
Can’t tell you, it’s a secret.
Hint: it’s made with mop water
and roses.
No, I can’t tell you!
You have to figure it out!
While you’re thinking about life
and soup
you should make me those cookies.
Real cookies,
not the metaphorical ones
that taste like dusty wisdom.
None of those computer ones,
either.
Just cookies,
with a little love
on top, like sprinkles.
Seriously, you owe me
three batches by now.
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