The Front Porch
Sitting on front porch steps,
Squeaking swings, gray stained decks.
Talking, sharing of day's past,
Turning sighs into a laugh.
Memories the prominent show,
Sharing stories of long ago.
Rockers thumping on worn boards,
Keeping tune with laughing chords.
When one arrives they all join in,
Greet them as a long gone friend.
Honeysuckle mingles in the breeze,
Lingers awhile before it flees.
Evening mist comes rolling in,
Voices subside and yawns begin.
Problems released, joys expressed,
Bring sleepiness, a good night's rest.
Where are days when at the end,
Listening - becomes a friend.
-- Ina G. Tressler
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