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Once upon a corner in the City,
An old porch of craftsmen days
Vine winding posts and bannisters and rockers,
Drawing one and all on their way.
Afternoons were busy with our mother,
Rocking, mending and meting out wisdom;
Children resting from lawn cartwheels,
The paper boy stopping for advice about courting.
Scents from the gentle boiling of beans
Blowing freely in the fresh spring air;
Shasta daisies wrapping its foundation,
Bermuda smelling fresh from mowing.

And

There was laughter and lemonade, and
Newspaper, movie magazines and song sheets.
Young marrieds’ visits – women stay at homes, then
Stars began twinkling at twilight,
Father his Chesterfield, mother rocking at his side,
Recounting their day, children gone inside,
About Mister This and Mrs. That,
Teasing and whispering undying love to each other,

Where have these gentle times gone?

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