The Porch

Written by: Judith Angell Meyer

The porch, 
Columns of trees, holding the wainscoting ceiling for years;
	Reflects his strength.

Wind now rips the bark from their bodies;
	As illness wore away his vigor.

Tongue and grove floor laid lovingly,
	painstakingly fitting it to the round bark wall-boards;
		Mirroring the patience of guiding his children’s lives.

Freeze and thaw, warps and splinters the boards away from the wall;
	Strong children move out on their own.

Wine barrel table and chairs,
	Seats now weathered, torn and uncomfortable;
		The consummate host - his family and friends leave with 
laughter and peace.

His aura lingered for a long time – 
Sometimes, even now.
Yet once in a while  –
As time, like the wind stealing small pieces – 

It feels like the porch never was –