To My Wanderer

The desk is a mess
And I’ve read so many books.
All this knowledge just floating on my mind.

What good is everything I know?
If there’s nothing I can teach to which you’ll listen?

And music!
I’ve played and heard so much
My heart so full of memories and melodies.

Can I sing you a lullaby?
Could you be my babe again and hear my love in song?

I remember Grandma
Making apple pies and we were laughing
Why couldn’t I give you that?
Where are the memory strings that tie you to home and happiness?