As I spot an alien car,
In the driveway of my home,
I know.
I open the big red door,
of what was once my home,
Only to find a woman in her twenties
Greeting me at the doorway,
Wearing a shirt I know is not hers.
"You Dad isn't home"
She walks back to the couch, and lies down to watch the television.
My little Rose lies comfortably
Beneath the unplugged Christmas lights.
I grab my things and dash,
Leaving the stranger in what I thought was home.
It used to be.
I no longer feel the tears fall from my cheeks.
I'm all dried up.
