THE PORCH:

That place of first kisses & hot grimy gropes,

Of old rockers creaking, with nudging of ropes,

Babes lulled to sleep in the cool evening breeze,

Serenaded softly, by bullfrogs & birds in the trees,

That old place, from where all weather was judged,

Rain, snow, sunbeams & spit-hail that just smudged,

With full moons watched & falling stars well wished,

Place where secrets were told & lying fishermen fished,

Where photos were snapped & promises were made,

Where, in summer afternoons, balmy heads were laid,

That place, where new babes were taught how to play,

Where, leaving brides, from families, were given away,

The porch, heart of the home & very special warm place,

And as I sit here in my rocker, still brings a smile to my face.