I am old and lonely, but I am not alone

Constant visits from people and family

that I’m supposed to know.

 

Why do they come, I wish that they’d just go and leave me be

who the hell are all these people

And what do they want from me.

 

Little children running around

messing up my house

strange looking women making coffee and fussing all about.

 

Happiness surrounds me only after they go home

and with them go the memories

of the photos I’ve been shown.