My Porch

My porch will never grace magazine covers

Or be a glossy, pull-out centerfold

But my porch in honest and humble endeavor

Is the foreshadow of heaven’s threshold

My porch has concrete all weathered and broken

But this won’t keep neighbors from stopping a bit

To talk of the weather, of gardens and children

There’s something ‘bout porches that begs us to sit

My porch is haven to small boys and kittens

Here candy-apple grins spread a mile wide

Beneath the poems of Browning and Kipling

To daisy-beamed whispers and dreams of a bride

Its borne the kisses of kool-aid pink splashes

Its worn the tracks of carefree muddy feet

It bears the tears of rain-song as it dashes

Over the proof of love’s precious heart-beat

It beams its beacon to night-owl teen-agers
It lends its front-steps to little bare toes
And oft in the evening these steps are the bleachers
Where we watch cool twilight strum rambling corn rows

My porch is nothing so special to others

But oh, how it echoes with moments of mirth

My porch is simple and yet humbly offers

A four-by-six glimmer of heaven on earth

© Janet Martin

My friend Megan (Lilacs and Lavender) and I chuckled yesterday at the thrill of being able to visit each others gardens and porches by the click of a mouse! Coffee or tea anyone?