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.