Yesterday you ran out on me. You were there when I woke up. Then all of a sudden, after breakfast, you were gone. I couldn’t run out into the street to get you; I was still in my pyjamas and there were buttons missing. So I lay down on the floor and cried.
You made everything better, Butter. You brought out the best in everyone, had so many strengths. You knew when to stand up for yourself and when to surrender, you were binding and protective, complementary, enriching…
You made ME better, Butter. You stretched my imagination; do you recall the day I gently melted you into liquid and drank you from a cup? And the day you were there on my hot jacket potato. So much of you. It made me so happy that I went out and did marvellous things that day.
I remember the night I lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come, when for no apparent reason I caught your sweet fragrance on the breeze and, knowing I had only a few short hours of rest before dawn, I arose and made an omelette just to spend a few stolen moments with you.
Oh Butter, these happy memories only harness the pain of your dreadful absence. Each time I remember you’re gone, I fall into rivers of woe. I cannot surface, you’re out of reach, the bread forlorn on the table rolls off in sorrow, hopeless it is without you.
Seconds, no, minutes I must wait, to be reunited with you. Why, when we’re apart, does time take such uncertain steps? Let this anguish serve at least, to deepen my love. May I remain in awe of your silky majesty, forever.