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,
Always there.

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.