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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Yummy's Attic
since 2001