Front Light On

Bag on my shoulder, the bus pulls off and goes,
I stand on the sidewalk with nowhere else to go.
I walk up the hill, my knees are shaking slow,
Then I see the house and the one light burning low.
Mama left the front light on every evening since I was gone.
Mom's come knocking, the night gets long,
But she kept it burning for our sun.
Mama's hair is silver now, her hands are thin.
She holds my face like I'm a boy again,
Says supper's on the stove, says sit down, son,
Says every night that porch light never came off.
I walk up the steps, my hand is shaking slow.