Ah, last five pounds.
Your effervescence of triumph.
Toil and trial endured
Stinky sweaty towels litter the floor
I await your good news.
Last five pounds you can't possibly know
My joy. My tears. My struggle.
My brownie-less days.
Chocolate cake free nights.
I live on broccoli.
Last five pounds you know the words I long to hear.
"Eat up," you will never say.
For you are nothing but a glob of fat sitting on my love handles.
And fat does not have a mouth, or vocal chords, or lungs.
Yet there you still sit.
My sweet silent encourager.
My last five pounds.
by Stacie "Maya Angelou" Lucas
No comments:
Post a Comment