White Jacket

I love my mother's rocking chair.

I love the way it holds her there.

Suspended in December air,

it rocks no more, she only stares.

I love my brother's swimming pool.

The liquid death was just a tool.

He made me cry so many tears,

now he'll say goodbye to all his years.

I love my daddy's smiling face.

He always was my favorite place.

When mother passed, it faded fast.

So I made a new one out of glass.

I love my jacket, snowy white.

I love the way it holds me tight.

I roam the halls with bounded hands,

that only family understands.