Might not necessarily be home

When a mother is dwelling in a

Nursing home…

Slipping farther away everyday

Calling you by your brother’s name

Not knowing where she is as different

Girls help her every day…

Crying for her mother then asking

Her daddy for help

Is hard for my hubby to watch and hear…

Torn between two women

Between two homes

Needed in both Is torturing

His heart…

I like being home

As my mother is gone

And going back to see her tombstone

In the ground

Doesn’t give me a happy view

Of my home no longer there…

A century has passed since

I called back there home

And my home now is where my

Children and grandchildren

Have grown…

And it is here I want to be…

So we sacrifice us

For that place so far away

Where he can be with her

For the withering of her days..