"Home at Last"

When will I see freedom from madness to haunt

hiding in a dream, crying floundering on a pillow

broken needles piercing, screaming to see her; 



my mother praying for me to come home

that she may save me from being a groupie

with dark blurred eyes singing songs of dope;



the road to nowhere, cocaine and merry men 

in a bed to share with all, a pipe to smoke

the bitter memories of being far from home.



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No, this is not home with a mother to hold

to try and say I love you, when I cannot see

a veil in a vision white stretching out a hand,



to hold me with a loving touch in her arms

and hear her say!  “Shoo, shoo my baby

now don’t you cry! I’m praying for you.”



My name’s Simone, disgraced, ashamed

seeing my father cry with me in his arms

lying on her grave, begging her for mercy;

there for forgiveness, free to live life at last.