I love pizza. I have tried to deny this, but I can't. It tastes so good.
It makes me happy. Comfort food. Puts a smile on my face.
Pepperoni ooh so colorful and pretty. Yummy to my tummy.
They say it is not good for your health. I beg to differ.
What can be so bad about something so simple.
A smile, a memory, a childhood delight.
I love pizza. Oh yea, so did my brother Blake.
Is life complicated. I think not.
Take a break. Eat pizza. Savor each bite.
You never know. You might enjoy it.
Watching Blake eat his last bites,
you could have sworn, life couldn't have been more right.
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3 comments:
Steve, nearly every day I check this site and no one has posted in such a long time (that includes me, too). Your post sounds like I feel. Thing is, we have to start compartmentalizing these feelings in order to function in the real world, and that means that we only allow those feelings to surface on occasion, and that is most often when we're alone. Makes grieving kind of lonely, doesn't it . . .
You couldn't have summed it up any better Jackie.
I love you, Steve. I love pizza. I love, love, love Blake.
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