The ride home is cold
I plug in and stare out the window
At the darkening clouds
Gravel crunches and we are
Here
House
Grey and painted with our mistakes
Step outside then back in
Bare feet on the floor
Not happy but comfortable
Unpack mother's things
Fold bags and put pieces in place
No one follows
Peek out the door and
Headlights are still on
A dark mist in the
Driver's seat
Angry
And brooding
Tip toe downstairs
No one is fooled by me
I kiss and tell
As I realight the steps
A door creaks open
I have be caught
I have been found