The Visit

'Twas the night after the visit, his parents' first.
And in the maisonette, the couple conversed.
They lay flat on the couch, their feet up in the air,
Their eyes glazed, skin ashen, expressions bare.

The sink was piled with dirty dishes aplenty,
Evidence of foreign foods prepared uncert'nly,
But eaten and enjoyed by both generations
And praised kindly, without reservations.

The rest of the house was shiny and clean,
Not a surface that didn't glisten and gleam.
The floors were without even a speck of dust
And even the fry pan had been scrubbed free of rust.

The futons had come from their vacumn-sealed pack
And lay on the tatami in a neatly piled stack.
By the sink in the bathroom were two plastic cases,
Hotel toothbrushes set out on little towels for faces.

They arrived just before dinner, fashionably late.
And all four then went out to the izakaya and ate.
The food was delicious, the alcohol flowed.
The boy's attempt to pay the bill was strongly forbode.

The parents came prepared, loaded with presents,
Personal towels, toothbrushes, and some other oddments.
Didn't use those prepared or laid out ahead.
Preferring to take home to launder instead.

They showered and bathed and headed straight up to sleep,
But the younger two were busy with things that wouldn't keep.
Morning came early for the young sleepy two,
But up they got to prepare feta omlettes and a big pot of brew.

A tour of his workplace, from machines in his office,
To tree-lined boulevards and the construction on campus.
Getting lost in a deserted dark hospital hall,
Before finding the cafeteria o'erlooking it all.

A long-weekend ending, the roads would be crowded.
So after a quick lunch of ramen the parents departed.
And heard to exclaim, ere they drove down the road,
"We enjoyed our visit to your lovely little abode!"