I'M Coming Home
He looks through the curtains as the meal is served
The sweat on his brow and the I.V. drips
Mom wears her apron with a picture of a turkey on it
It was her favorite and the music playing
And I'm coming home to where I'm loved
Father sits watching the game as the plate goes round
He had money on the wrong side but he swigs a beer
Everyone seems happy and content so he knocks on the door
No one hears and he stirs,trying to break free of the restraints
And I'm coming home to the warmth when I'm cold and alone
Where a man works and his wife cleans and raises the boys
Where desolation has no place to hide and no regret
And Mom hasn't begun drinking because her son left and will never come back
Where the geese still fly South to the warmth
Dogs bark and people have to stand to switch the channel
And I'm coming home
No cell phone or video games to gaze at and 24 hour news
The nurse brings a syringe and plunges it into my I. V.
The Angel wipes my soaking brow and gives me comfort
I'm alone with the mist and the murmur of the crickets
I'm coming home
The house is quiet and emptiness within
But Mom left a light on with expectation
A sign was set for all to know I'm coming
The quiet is lovely and the light welcomes
Home
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012
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