Track 4

I made it--that cake.
I even frosted the whole thing
and put rainbow-colored sprinkles on top.
It was your favorite, too.
I put it on the table
next to the vase that held
all those white roses.
You said you liked all-white
roses--that somehow they
represented the loss of
innocence when they started
to droop and turn brown.
You'd say "Look, look,
Lovely, do you see those flowers?
That's me--that's you--That's us together."
It was all so perfect--
that cake and those flowers.
I lit the candles
and then walked out the
door.
You came home early the next morning
and saw those flowers,
already drooping and brown.
You saw the cake,
now topped in a thin
layer of wax.
You probably stood there
for a moment, imagining
it as it once was--
beautiful and fresh,
innocent and playful.
I'm sure you searched the
house looking for me,
but of course I was gone.
It's been a month since
your birthday, but
everyday you see
those dried roses,
that moldy cake.

But, remember, Dear,
remember that song
while I'm gone.