I get us each one more scoop of ice cream.
You’re full but try to eat it anyway.

It’s things like this I’ll miss,
you shoveling in food simply because
it’s the last thing we’ll eat together.

As I’m shutting the car door,
my mind screams for me to stop.

I scoop out the thought and leave it on the pavement—
along with my fears that you won’t come back.

All I can do now is trust that God will protect you,
as my heart is scooped, clean out of my chest.