Aug 2018
A porch on an old plantation
In a late summer evening
The failing coast lies just before the falling horizon
Sound of crickets and cicadas
As muffled laughter and music plays in the den
What never happened for me, a memory I treasure though it isn't mine
Familiarity nonetheless, and warm
In a late summer evening
The failing coast lies just before the falling horizon
Sound of crickets and cicadas
As muffled laughter and music plays in the den
What never happened for me, a memory I treasure though it isn't mine
Familiarity nonetheless, and warm
Based on a feeling I once had when growing up in Southeast Lousiana
