Brother

Pockets of grief linger in my heart,

the organ that's been torn all apart.

This country night I've not much to do,
so I sit on the porch feeling like goo.

I'm watching my brother wash off his car, 

and marvel at how thorough his efforts are.

He scrubs and he soaks and wipes patiently,

sweating with work and spent energy.

The strains of the music that fills his ears,

mix with the moment erasing my tears.

It's cloudy and muggy and windy tonight

but somehow watching my brother makes it alright.

I wish we could talk like we used to do

when we were little and all things were new.

But we struggle, we fight and argue so much -

it's really a shame we're so out of touch...

My brother, my comrade, my partner in crime

lets hang out lets talk more, it's certainly time.