I Scream for Ice Cream

My two-year-old eyes fill with delight
screaming, “More, Mommy, more!”
But there is no more ice cream.
“You ate it all sweetie,” Mommy says.
I look past Mommy at the mirror behind the sink.
My adorable, chubby cheeks stare back.
Sadness soon fills my young eyes, staring at the empty, used bowl.
                                   ~
My sixteen-year-old eyes fill with delight.
screaming, “No, no more!”
But there is no more ice cream.
“You ate it all,” I say to myself.
I look past the fridge at the window behind the sink.
My ugly, chubby cheeks stare back.
Sadness soon fills my eyes, staring at the empty, used bowl.
                                  ~
My eighteen-year-old eyes fill with delight,
screaming, “No, no ice cream!”
But there is no ice cream.
“You didn’t eat,” I say to myself.
I look past the bedroom door at the mirror behind it.
My tight, thinned cheeks stare back.
Sadness fills my eyes, staring at the empty, unused bowl.
                                ~
My twenty-year-old eyes fill with sunlight.
I try to scream, but my voice is too starved.
My mother holds a full styrofoam bowl.
“You need to eat it all, Sweetie,” Mother whispers.
I look past Mother at the mirror on the hospital wall.
My sunken, starved cheeks stare back.
Sadness soon fills my eyes, staring at the full, untouched bowl.