Picket Fences
When I was growing up
My family was pretty normal
Nuclear
Or whatever they're calling it now
(I don't know)
My mother worked weekends
And she only worked from home
Mostly, she took care of my brother and I
Fed us
Cleaned up after us
Sent us to school
(Those things mothers tend to do)
My father worked monday through friday
From noon until dinnertime
Every week
When he'd get home from the office
He'd kiss my mother
And they'd talk about anything
And everything
And how the day went
While my brother and I made faces at each other
And quietly passed the salt
(Children are to be seen and not heard)
On Sundays we'd go to church
And sing hymns and listen to the pastor
An old man with gray hair and kind eyes
Read from the Bible. and talk about being good
Afterwards, we'd go home
My father would sit in his chair
A red recliner, I remember
And cross his legs and read the paper
He always gave the comics to my brother
We had a dog
A black lab, named Lucy
And a cat, a black tom
(Whose name was also Tom)
With white on the tips of his ears
We lived in a big white house
In the middle of town
On main street
With flowers by the walk
And a garden out back
(We had picket fences, too)