I grew up on the front porch,
listening to the
song of the whippoorwill.
We came running when
we heard the dinner bell,
back from roaming
the woods and the creek.
Listening to classic rock
in the backseat,
no AC on a hot summer day
and a cooler packed
with lunch.

Vacations were trips
to Kentucky and the
hollers of Virginia
and that time we went to
the grand ol opry.
My hometown has one stoplight
and you’ll hear gossip
about someone you know
at the gas pump.

Now I’m dating a man
who lives on Main Street
and I’m the last one in
the house I grew up in.
My siblings live in the next
town over, and my parents
are down the road.
But not much has really changed,
I’m still growing up
on the front porch.

I like when he puts
his arm around me
as I’m laying against
him on the couch,
and he gives me
a little squeeze and says,
my girl.
I like the way it sounds.

They say,
she’s a good girl.
Girls like that don’t just
grow on trees
but once they’ve
taken enough bites
they leave.

I wish I was the shiniest
Apple on the highest branch,
soaking up all of the sunshine,
bright red and juicy
enough for one man
to finally pick
and take home
instead of leaving me
to rot on the ground
in the shade.
At least the worms like me.

He takes the time
to tell me I look good,
and can’t keep his hands
off me when we’re
on the couch.
He thanks me for
spending time with him
and calls me
pretty lady.
When I’m upset
he asks what he can do
to help
and says we will
figure it out together.
And then today he called
me babe for the first time.
He tells me he misses me
even after we just saw each other
and remembers
everything I say.

Is this what gentle
love feels like?
Or is that just what
Love feels like.
To be seen, heard and wanted.

We haven’t said
I love you yet but
I can feel it.

I wonder if his
clothes will ever
be mixed in with mine.
In a basket fresh from
the dryer,
slowly gone through
and folded.
I can imagine
putting them away in
the dresser in his room,
and then hanging mine
in the closet.

I would take one of
his shirts out of the drawer
and put it on.
Go downstairs to
see him smile and
then kiss me while
he makes dinner.
In the house we live
in together.

The sound of crickets
reminds me of him.
I wonder if I’ll ever be
able to step foot outside
just before dark,
when the sun is still
barely lighting
the sky,
without getting that
feeling.

It sounds like when
things were good.
We always did well
together when it was warm.
Maybe we would have
made it if it
could be
summer forever.

I gave him a necklace
that looks just like
the one I always wear.
I wanted to give him
something that would
remind him of me.

When I gave it to him
he put it on right away,
as I bashfully tried to
make a joke.
He said,
“Come here”
and kissed me.

He hasn’t taken it off since.