No porch yet;  
just green grass hills for miles,
glass skies filled to the brim  
with clouds . 
No time to the day on this weekend;  
just existence. 
Long dirt roads smell of tobacco,  
old barns perfect for hide and seek,  
hours outside lost and found  
on our two acre piece of inheritance     
No porch yet  
crying for us to keep inside  
and grow up; 
taking away my youth.     
Woods with thick clay dirt   
hit my face— “on accident Mom…”   
I can breathe in my youth again  
before the trees that shelter me now  
are replaced by shingles and wood.     
That ***** fun of my youth  
cleansed my pores 
in big murky ponds  
my youthful spirit may very soon be pushed away,  
by a porch, built for parties.     
Until that time   
it was the sunsets that pushed me inside  
to the smell of dad’s spaghetti;   
variations of the same basic recipe.   
I saw smiles and laughter  
Dishes cleaned as we were bathed. 
Bathtub bubbles rained puddles on the floor.  
Wet and naked laps around the house  
“ANDREA LEAH! Get your naked **** back here
and get your jammies on!”  
Never had time to dry off completely  
just wanted to dance around.      
Damp bodies eventually squeezed into   
barbie doll underwear and pink frilly nightgowns.  
A rock in the big comfy recliner-   
inescapable,   
the day is going to end  
before the stars shine bright   
against the green grass and black night sky.  
Luckily, there is no porch yet.