Honey Bunches of Oats 16/30

Big bowls of cereal captured his heart every single morning

Like clockwork

[tick] went the bowl on the table
[tock] went the spoon against the ceramic
[tick] went the rumbling and bangs from upstairs
[tock] went the slam of the door
[tick] went the beat of his heart
[tock] always managing to recover from it’s falter
Looking up into the face of his beautiful Mother
He’d always notice her complexion around one eye seemed different than the other
But she hushed his comments and admonished him to eat
And so he’d eat
And he’d offer her big soggy spoonfuls from the bottom of his big cereal bowl
Two percent milk dripped from the bottom of his nutmeg colored lips
That wrapped his hundred watt smile
And his Mother would never ever resist
And she would consume his offering
And pray that like her Sunday morning ten percents
This bottom of the bowl sacrifice would supply her with just enough faith
To make it to the next breakfast
And it never ceased to amaze him how his cereal
Could make her cry and laugh in the same breath
And she’d whisper her thank you’s
With her lips painted on to his ear
Then send him off to school

Moment after moment after day after day after year after year

Until he blinked
And the footprints of his Mother had been replaced by his own beautiful wife
And so he would offer her big soggy spoonfuls from the bottom of his big cereal bowl
Two percent milk dripping from the bottom of his nutmeg colored lips
That wrapped his hundred watt smile
And his Wife, much like his Mother, would never ever resist
But the bliss turned a bit distressing when he noticed that
Around her eyes were the same complexion

And so he decided to fix it
Bludgeoned her eye with the force of a typhoon
That forever left her mentally lost at sea & permanently scarred
And he never forgave himself and so he took his regret and stress out on her
Time and again
Like clockwork
[tick] went the glass of the window
[tock] tock went her head against the frame
[tick] went his heart when she’d stop breathing
[tock] though she faltered she never quit living

And every day he’d weep
Plead for her forgiveness
He’d mumble incoherent thoughts concerning his sorrow
But she hushed his comments
Accepted his forgiveness
And admonished him to eat
And so he’d eat
And he’d offer her big soggy spoonfuls from the bottom of his big cereal bowl
Two percent milk dripping from the bottom of his nutmeg colored lips
That wrapped his hundred watt smile

And he finally understood how one could cry and laugh in the same breath
And his Wife would never ever resist
And she would consume his offering
And pray that like her Sunday morning ten percents
This bottom of the bowl sacrifice would supply her with just enough faith
To make it to the next breakfast

(c)j.claude'10-Phoenix-