This Old Porch
I remember a time
When we used to hold hands,
Walked through the flowered fields
And looked out over the land.
Lived in a large house
With a white picket fence,
Watched the children laugh and play
A life that used to make sense.
Every now and then
I go back to that old house,
The paint's peeling off
It's about to fall down.
I stand on the porch
The memories come rolling back,
In the corner, there used to be a swing
But, pure beauty, it does lack.
We used to sit there
Talk 'neath the starry sky,
Our hands clasped together tightly
Hearts and souls entwined.
This old porch, is now worn out
Just like the love, we once had,
I thought we'd be together forever
My soul cries, feeling torn and sad.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
July.23/2006
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This Old Porch
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