The tapestry on the wall belongs

to the tired man crouching in the corner

by the two children of Anna and Leon

He wears a sad highway face that has come to him

through the years of drifting since the days

of mother and father left far behind

He holds in his cracked hands memories

of soft women on sweet-smelling sheets on beds

in towns long forgotten

of smoky bars with soulful guitar music

winding its way around strangers

with no place to go

In this house full of prattering and pattering

he lives apart from the man and woman

who live and love here

But back from the cloud of twenty years ago

he comes alone

and Anna and Leon take him in

He speaks when there is silence

speaks with eyes and collections of his life

It has been a long restlessness

but to everything there is an end

And this is his end

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