To my brothers and sisters, with love.
We always had a porch swing
It was a staple when I was young
We kept it busy every summer
With stories and the songs we sung
My sisters and I sang together
Smiling faces with legs entwined
With four of us, it got quite crowded
But no one ever seemed to mind
Swinging on those hot, summer days
Trying to stir up a whiff of cool air
On rainy days, it became a tent
With a blanket from the rocking chair
Embroidery to crocheting to stringing beans
Or just swinging the baby to sleep
I can still see Mother sitting there
Those are memories for a heart to keep
Daddy rested in that old porch swing
After a day of working hard
And when it started squeaking
He greased the chains with lard
Ah, the secrets that swing could tell
About our innermost thoughts and dreams
Boys and girls talking about boys and girls
Brother and me hatching “get rich” schemes
Loving to hear Daddy’s old guitar
As he strummed at the end of day
A freight train from way over in Delorme
And the crickets and frogs at play
Life seems to have gotten too busy
Seems we don’t make the time anymore
To enjoy the simplest pleasures of life
Making memories to revisit evermore
Kathleen McCoy Eldridge
© July 30, 2011
All Rights Reserved
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