You drag your heavy frame stuck in a wheelchair
To the shop where you find real pleasure
By the sheer smell of sweets and simple treasures.
And, oh, the sight of all these chocolates!
You grab two regular bars and put in your bag.
I say no to that. They’re not the NSA kind.
I reach for the bars in your bag and return them
To the shelf, offer you cookies and chocolates
With no sugar added. You shake your head,
Tell me again that you know your body well
Better than your doctor and family members.
You want the regular chocolates.
Of course, you never win and I send you out
With whatever the doctor approves of.
At times, it’s harder when I have to call a nurse
For you’re leaving with nothing but your raging craving
For only one bar a week I should be giving.
You say your life sucks for you can’t get what you want
I say you ought to think of your condition,
But you rant about your situation.
On days when you don’t look at the chocolate collection
And ask for something else, a décor to liven up your room
I let out a deep sigh. We’re not fighting over sweets this time.
Truly your life has been a drag. Too early to be confined.
Too early to curse your diabetic diet.
Too early to wish for the end of it all.
You and I. We fight over chocolates for two years.
I try to cheer you up, you try to be grateful.
I wish the fights could go on, but your wish is granted.
On the first of August your heart set you free.
I did not even see you smile in the summer sun
For I was vacationing in my tropical haven.
Ben, oh, Ben, I pray you have…
… chocolates made in Heaven.