Sometimes we are life, sometimes foreigners in it

In the shop, the days were the coins of the hours.
In the evening you used to leave the windows open.
You waited for the smell of worldliness to escape.
Father. Sometimes you were life,
Sometimes a foreigner in it.
My sadness knows it now.

Background: The father's life was sometimes a struggle between daily life and the longing for spirituality. My mother speaks.