You come home at dusk barely walking
Singing old love songs, Written before your time
Covered in dirt
What troubles you?
The boys see their father and scatter
Little acknowledgement of his presence
Whether he comes home and dusk, Or is home all day
What troubles him?
Wife of his youth they call her,
Strong as an ox maybe, But youth is all gone
She has been angry, then empathetic
All that is left one now is worry
Watching the clock
Listening to the sounds of the night
Anyone singing old songs?
What troubles her?
It is you, singer of old songs, dusk walker, unpredictable presence...
It is you troubled soul, won't you tell us
What troubles you?
©lilliye
L