Lunch for only ten cents,
Friends worth by how many.
Life was comic books, sticky popsicle sticks, cowgirl boots,
And playing in the dirt.
They told us to go away,
So we did.
If troubled, a solution was easy,
And as you sat on your Mother’s lap,
She’d stroke your hair.
Her warm breath stirred your heart,
As tears fell onto your lap.
Lights diffused just a little brighter,
And nobody could tell you what to do.

Lunch for only three fifty,
Fewer friends than before but closer.
Life was magazines, Tay-Tay Swift!, nail polish, dolls,
And playing in the dirt didn’t seem as fun.
They told us to go away,
So we did.
In a game evolved a story,
And your Mother grew wearier,
She’d kiss you goodnight,
Her eyes blue as a marble.
As she shuffled away downstairs, tears dribbled down your pillow.
Lights became dimmer,
And nobody could tell you what to do.

Lunch for only four dollars.
Friends became less concerning, the only few tight as glue.
Life was textbooks, Eminem, snow, parties.
And playing in the dirt was ridiculous.
They didn’t tell us to go away,
So we left anyway.
In your eyes I could see an opening window,
And as you sat alone,
Sometimes I’d wonder how your Mother was doing…
Her ghost still haunts you.
As tears dried up,
Living was suddenly diverged from being alive,
And nobody could tell you what to do.

Lunch for thirty-three dollars and fourteen cents.
Friends no more,
Life was work, money, bills, raw paper cuts, you,
And playing in the dirt was for the kids.
They sometimes would asked us to come play,
So we did.
If troubled, we’d find a solution.
And as you bent down on one knee,
Silently I prayed your Mother was watching,
Her blue eyes wider than the ocean.
As tears ran down my face,
Light came back into your eyes,
And nobody told me what to do.