Wednesday, June 25, 2008

The Porch Swing


prompt storyteller



Here we sit on the porch swing
eyes closed, legs tucked beneath me
your words falling like the hum of honeybees

The crescent scar above your left eye
and the accident that caused it

The first time you met grandma,
in her starched white nurse’s uniform

The first time you held mom so pink
opening her hazel eyes

The first nail you hammered into
this home you built for your family

Your life stories, that set
you on this road, to this porch with me
words falling like the hum of honeybees





5 comments:

paisley said...

this was lovely.. it made me realize,, it calls to memory some of the silly stories my grandfather told us as kids.....

June said...

Sweet and soft...

Nathan said...

Love the refrain "the hum of honeybees." The best tributes are made from moments like these -- the intensely personal.

SunShine said...

This poem settles nicely in the spirit.
It brings about that cozy feeling you get
when you know your home is your own
little vacation spot everyday.

texasblu said...

"words falling like the hum of honeybees" - vivid imagery!