driving down the windy road

back to the place I used to know

little house on the river bend

the four of us used to play pretend

picking apples as we climb the trees

thought we could fly but we scraped our knees

late autumn walks walks for asparagus

to get away from the smell of cigarettes

your mom always sang us to sleep

made us french toast with syrup to eat

he left oranges for the birds on the trees

we ate them and sang with the chickadees

it was chaos, it was confused,

we didn’t notice, we were amused

by the sun, by the water

by the laugh of his daughters

but that one dark night

chasing the red and blue lights

ran after him in our wet stocking feet

as your mom sat on the front porch steps and weeped

your mom always sang us to sleep

made us french toast with syrup to eat

he pushed her against the wall

and now I’m watching as your family falls