Third of six

Driven down two hundred some miles,
they greet him with a thousand smiles
A Surrey cleave,
the eldest son
has now undone.

Neither the burden of
of his drive
or the dewy eyed dreams
of drunken babies,
the youngest sixteen
all of us:
so so alive.

Just third of six
I'm a middling, cold,
the lost one and though old,
they will never see what I've become
in a larger world
outside.

They never visited
I never moved too far,
I'm not a shining star, I'm what
I've always been to them:
just third of six.