Haiku a Day

Mother was forty. 
Father was fifty when I 
was born. The caboose.

He worked on railroad.
All the livelong day. Math says
I was his present.

Gift given on his
fiftieth birthday. That was
my moms family joke.
  
Siblings said I was 
left on doorstep by gypsies.
Children seen. Not heard.

Not the center of 
anyone's universe then
Except for grandma

Mother went to work
At factory down the street
Never felt neglect

Nor did I feel poor
Hungarian grandmother 
watched over me well.

Six of us lived in
Two bedroom home. One bathroom
One tub. No shower.

Time dragged at young age
Yet house cleared out soon enough
Siblings move on out.

Leaving me alone
Youngest still fifty years on
Still not seen or heard