Salesman

Your father was a salesman
He’s leaving home for ages
You’ll think of him a stranger
That sends home his wages

Now he’s on the road again
Looking for a village
But every door he knocks on
Already has been pillaged

Meanwhile you play hopscotch
Across the pavement days
You also admire the wristwatch
Of any man who stays

Your mother chases vagrants
She never gives them money
She calls them by your father’s name
But you like them cause they’re funny

The years pass by so empty
In your lonely chamber
You pray for his homecoming
But his love is like some danger

Your mother marries someone else
She sends you to your room
And sitting at your window
Like the darkened moon

Like a room – in a box of concrete
Like a ship – at the bottom of the sea
You go in search of the salesman
Who left you-to-be free
Who left you-to-be free

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

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