dad’s coat

My voice sounds different,

my family says when I visit.

Accent faded, lips tighter when I speak.

I trip on the stairs I used to fly up,

and fumble for the light switch,

wasn’t it on the other wall?

But my dad’s coats still hang heavy on me,

and my room still looks the same.

Hints of a place I once knew,

but can’t quite call it home.

JKL