I’m going to have some crispies for you, GG,
Some hot, hot soup from a plain white
Bowl with tiny, china blue flowers on its lip.
Because that is what you would have done,
And I want to do what you would have done,
Gone where you would have gone,
Sung what you would have sung,
Loved the way you would have loved
If you had been here today.
I’ve never had anyone else write me a poem,
Sing me a song about bicycles and daisies.