The little grey house was a secluded place
Where we as a family did reside
Five short years we lived un-happily
We're just happy we survived

Now I dont know where I'm going with this
Just something I felt I should write
Come to think of it those years were quite long
All we did was fight..

My husband (now deceased) was always very drunk
No time for me or his family
Wine, women and song was his motto
Never really thinking of his sons or me..

Well I buried him in a land of dried leaves
Where he haunts me to this day
The abuse and horror of which we lived
Never seems to go away..

His sons are older and wiser by far
I think I have done a good job
But ahh..they remember the times
Of their childhood of which was robbed

I would like to say, not one of them drinks
To say so would be a lie..
But they are cautious when so imbued
After seeing their father die..

We have our problems to say the least
Not a day goes by we do not reminisce
About the grey house where we use to live
That left our lives in a mess..

© 1999 Suann Wine