Trying to unpack boxes,
Which are filling all the spaces.
Sammy is not happy,
Seems she’s losing hiding places.
To my young son, I was a superman,
Who handled everything with ease.
Now at 26, he steps in,
When my breath begin to wheeze.
As an older man, I sit cold and alone,
My eyes lost in the rage of the storm.
Behind me at the table, my son and his girl,
Whisper, giggle and are warm.
Sammy and Daddy
Having lots of fun.
When they’re not playing ribbon,
They’re napping in the sun!
We moved across the country,
Hoping nevermore to roam.
Sammy really didn’t like it,
But now she feels at home.