An empty house filled with worry
as he was out drinking again,
she lay there wishing he'd come home
not knowing if he would or when.
His Dad was the same when he was alive
she knew it was a family trait,
so when her men went out a drinking
she stayed home to worry and wait.
He took her car and without a license
she was afraid he would go to jail,
if they locked him up he'd have to stay
there was no money for bail.
His rage was building fueled by booze
it took bizarre turns and twists,
of his temper she grew afraid
she'd soon be feeling his fists.
Wide awake throughout the night
until hearing the car return,
fearfully peeking from the window
to see what she could learn.
Watching him stagger in at dawn
was the saddest thing she'd ever seen,
because he was her first and only son
two weeks shy of turning sixteen.
by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved
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