The other side of the wall

Daddy Goeth was a good man.

Never brought his work home.

Gave us  hugs and  kisses

when we did as we were told.

Gave Mama a present, a lampshade.

I remember the numbers, the numbers,

 they made a pretty pattern on the wall.

Apple wood had a pleasant smell

 as it burnt in the hearth.

White smoke, black smoke,

what shade on the other side?

Too many ledgers, too many lists.

Too many doing as they are told.

(I never knew Daddy)