Return, My Dears

In nineteen-fifty

A family was growing.

Mother was pregnant

Her beauty was glowing.

A fairy tale life

Was how it should be?

Six kids in the suburbs

Our father did flee.

His return visits

Were filled with pain.

Violence and brutality

Was a daily strain.

Hiding became

The only safe place.

Huddled with siblings

Waiting for grace.

So, at twenty-five.

With the love of my life,

We Built a safe home

For our kids and his wife.

I promised myself

A life much kinder.

Facing the future

Hope gave me a blinder.

Leaving behind

A past, in the dust.

Our home filled with caring

Gentility a must.

Our Lives were tempered

With a velvet glove.

Kindness and caring

Respect and love.

Now our three children

Are parents as well.

There is peace and harmony,

In the places they dwell.

The gift of grandchildren

Fill our days with sweet sounds.

Their Laughter and joy

In our home does abound.

The door is always open

For a hug and an ear.

To sooth the journey

We all sometimes fear.

And indeed, our loved ones

Return to their home.

For it’s more than a structure

With a garden gnome.

A “House” is a place

Made of brick and stone.

Our “Home” is a haven,

Where your never alone.