Sitting on the window ledge,
Oblivious to the piercing
Sound of frantic reality
The silver car rolls into view.
And I can see him in the front
The content smile shining through the
White tangled bush taking residence,
Much thicker than when I saw it last.
My mother's exasperated disapproval
Flashes across her face, I can
See her eyes following the line
To the kitchen, where the scissors lay
The many suitcases are hauled from the car,
He is handed his stick and
The party swarms inside
He enters the first room and my eyes
Move to the chair in the corner, all the usual
Mounds if nick knacks and blankets have
Been cleared for him to have his chair,
Legs crossed at the ankles, mahogany clashing
Against the dark brown.
I wait for the one moment
It never changes,
He turns to me,
With the same content smile.
"Time to do your job Connie One"
The monstrous black suitcase
Lies in the hallway,
The zip yielding, tortuously slow
Revealing what I am looking for,
Situated with the highest grace,
Revelling in the importance.
I sit like Buddha,
As I pull the black worms
From their knot, and on goes
Those navy slippers,
He picks up the newspaper
He's here to stay.