Come Home, James

We know it’s hard to be with us
around this time of year.
But Christmas just won’t be the same
without your presence here.
Your sister loves you oh so much;
we know you feel the same.
She needs you here to hug her tight
and play her favorite game.
Your brother’s gone to rehab now;
he’s sober thirty days.
We’re hoping he will make it home.
He’s gonna try, he says.
Your dad and I may yell sometimes,
the money’s pretty tight.
But we love you kids and always will
(Though you so rarely write) ;-)
I know that life has been quite hard
for you these past few years.
I can’t remove your many pains,
but I can dry your tears.
I understand if you don’t want
to visit us at all,
but if you choose to stay away
at least give us a call.
And just in case you change your mind,
enclosed you’ll find a key
that opens up the building door
that faces 14th Street.
We hope you’ll give the trip some thought.
We’ll try to keep things calm.
Just think about it James, my son.
I miss you.

Your Mom

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