Mama, I’m Coming Home

by Mark Spencer   Jun 22, 2022

Hey there girl, does your mother know?
When you left, did she see you go?
Did she know of your troubled past,
Of sticks and stones that others cast?

With a twenty in your pocket,
And your mama in your locket,
You set your course without regret,
And headed for a new sunset.

And at the end of your rainbow,
On the streets of San Francisco,
You found peace, love, and rock ‘n roll,
And a life that renewed your soul.

But that’s a place of give and take,
It fills you up, and makes you break!
And time would not let that life last,
It slowly slipped into the past.

It was an age of innocence,
A magical experience!
But the “magical” always fades,
Replaced by new, garish parades!

And so, that city by the Bay
Banished you to San Jose.
Where you went searching for your muse,
And ended up in Santa Cruz.

Mama moved to Capitola,
A little house on Portola.
The two of you reconnected,
Something neither one expected.

Together you went on a search,
And found new magic in a church.
But time moved on until the day
Mama got sick and passed away.

Your sixties flew by in a breath,
As cancer threatened your own death,
The radiation treatment burned
The cancer out, but it returned!

And when you turned seventy four,
You couldn’t fight it anymore.
They put you into Hospice care,
And helped your spirit to prepare.

And then one night your mama came,
As you heard Jesus call your name,
When drawn into the misty foam,
You said: Mama ... I’m coming home.


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