Saturday, December 26, 2009

Old Porch Swing

I often see the remnants of
an old porch swing

chipped paint and rusty chain
swaying in the breeze
as though carrying an invisible rider

and I wonder

who was the first to sit
upon the freshly painted seat
and look out from that porch
feet dangling
rocking to and fro

what dreams were dreamed there?

or were there two?

arm in arm
cheek to cheek

as they planned a future

and when the dew of youth
was past
sat together as they had
so many times before

hand in hand
cheek to cheek

smiling and laughing
about those youthful
dreams
swinging to and fro
on that old
porch swing.

cDeby White Jizi 2009

1 comment:

  1. John, I just saw this comment. I was adding some poems today and updating the blog. Thank you. Poems just seem to flow through me. It is a beautiful experience to write them.

    Love,
    Deby

    ReplyDelete