This is a play that I have just started. I know that it needs work, but please give me feedback as to what I should change.
(The front porch of a poor farm. The windows are boarded up, obviously hurriedly, and the door is cracked slightly. There is a rocking-chair style bench in the upper right corner. The edge of the porch looks out onto a sunset over amber hills and on the mount of the farthest hill is a brilliant oak tree. The tree is prominent and a center-piece of sorts for the scene.
The curtain rises with Joseph sitting on the bench, rocking back and forth. Joseph is a young man of about 25 years, 6ft tall and awkward yet shockingly handsom, though stress lines have already appeared on his face. He is wearing a filthy suit with half a bun on and seems to be proud of it. His face is filled with sophistication, although his movements seem to be sluggish to the point of frustration. He is gazing at the tree and gives a nostalgic sigh.)
Joseph: Those were the days. When we were so foolish, I still don’t know why we still did it, my, those were the days. (Suddenly irate with what he just said, mixed with the booze, which is getting to his head) No! (Trying to be sure of himself, but failing miserably. Stuttering) It wasn’t a mistake! We planned for it to happen! And that’s not lying; all my buddies know that I’m proud as hell of what happened! (Quieting down, and returning his gaze to the oak tree and back in his nostalgic tone) Right under that oak tree too. I remembered the date and the time for almost a year, what was it again? (He becomes upset with himself and almost hurts himself trying to think) Anyway, me and Mary sat up there dreaming about our actions, both feeling satisfied at their own actions, and wondering what the other was thinking. Of course, I was awake, gazing at the stars. Mama always warned me not to get mixed up with a woman, but I think she would approve. (Then, in a sincere, mystical voice) O’ magical Oak tree, what should I do? You've known me longer than I know. Should I go or should I stay? I wouldn't want to upset Mary, but I've lived here my whole life. (suddenly he gets horribly distrought) She's got no right to tell me that I have to leave the place where I was born, where my Daddy was born, where his Daddy was born... (he suddenly loses all anger and resentment, and slouches in the bench) I'd be such a shame to go. (Happy at a realization, he jumps off the bench as if it were attacking him, and starts to pace on the porch) Wait! My books! I can't leave without packaging each one separately. That ought to slow... (A long sigh, and his high spirits vanish like that) But eventually I’ll still have to go.(A baby is heard crying, which snaps Joseph out of his nostalgia into an authoritative, fatherly temperament and the alcohol seems to fade away).
Mary’s voice: Joseph, come help with Jr. (Joseph practically runs off stage, but pauses and turns back to the oak and opens his mouth to speak, then with an impatient reminder) Honey, Jr. (he rushes off stage).
