Whenever I need moments of privacy,

I retreat to the vestibule of my back porch,

With the key inside to find consistency,

Reclining momentarily upon handmade couch.

The lattice where time has no hasty entrance,

To invite the world and its follies to destroy,

The structure of my private place,

In The awful rush to close my joy.

In my back porch, I can listen to nature waking,

Here lies the solitude I have quietly sought,

With the tunes of emotions gently whispering,

Day dreams encompass my heart,

I come into my grand porch,

Without being disturb by playful noises,

Reminiscing the reach of a gentler touch,

Sometimes weaving to myself old memories.

Bathe in sacred streams of emotions,

In my back porch I lean into the enclosed screen,

And find a place to wipe away muddy feelings,

Before I enter the interior of our home.

Learn more about this author, Gerry Legister.
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