He always loves you

When He cries, it rains,
but he is not crying this morning.
The sun is shining through the window,
lying on the pedals of a poinsettia.

He sits up in bed.
He stretches his arms
and the universe expands.
He smiles contentment.

He tiptoes down the stairs.
He has perfected his
apple cinnamon oatmeal recipe,
and He is ready to share it
with you and your lover.

He grew the finest oats.
He handpicked the best apples.
He cooks now in the quiet hour.
He knows you love apple cinnamon.

But He doesn’t stop there.
He cooks a feast:
steamed greens,
scrambled eggs, fried eggs,
bacon and sausage,
waffles and pancakes,
and fruit salad.

He is eager to share it with you and your lover.
He wonders why you are still so quiet.
He looks out the front window,
and discovers your car is gone.

He calls.
He waits.
The feast goes cold.
The vegetables wilt,
the eggs get soggy,
the bacon and sausage dry out,
the waffles and pancakes go stale,
and the fruit salad turns brown.

Finally, He decides to eat without you.
He finishes and cleans up.
Then you and your lover
come in the back door,
wet from the rain,
with a small bag of leftovers from
a fast food restaurant.

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