by Tom Dickson, Thunderhead Ranch
I heard his steps on the porch tonight, coming in the door
Dusty boots, that dirty hat, ….messing up my floor
Supper’s on, but not so much, I only cook for two
He washes up and grabs a beer, and sometimes quite a few.
Six kids were raised and raised to move, a dream that seems so wrong
To leave the nest and fly away, to where they don’t belong
Our luck was good, we timed it right, our children all are well
We missed the wars, those goddamned wars, not so lucky down the road a spell
“Coming Ma” he turns to climb to the bedroom right above
The only room, with anyone, holding 60 years of love
The bootless socks walk slower now, hands reaching in the night
To touch my face, to hold my soul, to know that I’m alright
He’s 81, I’m 82, the bed don’t bounce so much,
That’s fine, we had our time, I blush to know it’s true.
Dishes done, I sit a spell, ….looking at that floor
That old, old man, still makes me laugh and touches to my core
Of life and love, and loving life, over 60 years or more
I heard his steps on the porch tonight, coming in the door.
