As the helicopter chopped the air I sat there unaffected,
at the table
I elected to carve the roast
giving myself the most of it and putting aside a bit for 'Bob', old now and not  a remnant of the dog he used to be

The helicopter bothered me
it flies in each day before our dinner or our tea and sits there in a field beside the house quite elegantly
but what's it for?
the pilot never gets out,never comes to knock on the door
and I wonder what he's waiting for.

I think he may be wanting me to take a ride across the sea and consequentially I am afraid
that one evening when tea or dinner's made there will not be a place set for me.
And in the tower blocks of regret up on the twenty seventh floor,I'll find out what he's waiting for.
I want the elevator to hesitate somewhere between floors two and three
Not willing yet or able to see the future that is waiting for me up on the twenty seventh floor.
I know what he's waiting for
but I'm not ready yet to face my future or regret and in these moments when I let my fears arise
I sometimes cry,my eyes are red
I butter bread and eat my roast and whether or not I got the most is not the purpose of this meal
the real meal is sat in the field,the helicopter will not yield its secrets until I take that trip
until I slip the harness
accept my lot which is always less than what I want but never need and on the twenty seventh floor, I'll find that one door that remains locked shut until I put myself in place before the mirror that shows the face of who I am.

After dinner is done,a slice of bread and jam to calm the nerves and soothe my fevered brow.
I don't know when or how or if I should even try to escape from that which would make me fly into that which I would hope not to see
but the helicopter waits
and I know it waits for me.