Wind in the seams.
Rain in the bone.
A king lost the house.
A fool found home.

I came through the gate with my name torn off,
mud on my mouth, old rope for a belt.
The dogs knew first what the family cost,
how a warm room lies when the cold is dealt.
Father in velvet, daughters in glass,
every kind word with a hook in the back.
I watched the feast turn invoice fast,
watched love get weighed on a silver rack.
So I put on rags like a second skin,
let the storm count ribs where the truth got in.
No crown.
No claim.
Just thunder writing all our names.
If the house goes blind when the bloodline speaks,
I’ll be the madman under the eaves.

Poor Tom’s coat
keeps the weather in.
Poor Tom’s coat
knows the shape of sin.
Out in the rain,
where the rich men break,
Poor Tom’s coat
keeps what the house won’t take.

The old man screamed at the sky like rent,
asked every cloud what his children meant.
He had one bare head and a kingdom spent,
one cracked prayer with the grammar bent.
I said nothing.
I played the fool.
Hid my good name in a beggar’s wool.
Sometimes a lie is a locked back door.
Sometimes madness is a weatherproof tool.
My hands shook hard, but my eyes stayed clear,
saw the daughters sharpening every tear.
Saw the servants look down at the floor,
saw the storm come in through the family door.
If blood means love, then explain these bruises.
If law means right, tell me who it chooses.
I wore dirt till the dirt spoke back,
and the night put teeth in the almanac.

Poor Tom’s coat
keeps the weather in.
Poor Tom’s coat
knows the shape of sin.
Out in the rain,
where the rich men break,
Poor Tom’s coat
keeps what the house won’t take.

Take the silk.
Take the seal.
Take the table.
Take the meal.
Take the name
they made me wear.
Leave me truth
and borrowed air.
There’s a rat in the wall
with a better inheritance.
There’s a crown in the ditch
with a worm for a witness.
There’s a father outside
learning cold by degrees.
There’s a son in the mud
with the key no one sees.

Poor Tom’s coat
keeps the weather in.
Poor Tom’s coat
knows the shape of sin.
Out in the rain,
where the proud men break,
Poor Tom’s coat
keeps what the house won’t take.

Wind in the seams.
Rain in the bone.
Some lose a kingdom.
Some lose a home.