Upon a porch with a slatted pine awning
A white rocker sits today, still, bereft
You may imagine a woman yawning
Waking from repose, holding her weft

She loved to sew and knit and crochet
All her various needles she had sorted
To be easy to choose and then put away
Her wares were American, not imported

A simple life with a simple place to visit
On a porch, in that rocker, facing the street
Say hello to the neighbor, ask "how is it?"
'Twas easy to be friendly to folks you meet

This town instilled a sense of community
No need for a car; could walk to the stores
From crime there seemed to be immunity
So there was no need to lock ones doors

Glass of lemonade or maybe iced tea
She'd offer as she put down her knitting
Nice and cool; with a baby on your knee
Small conversation would be very fitting

Oh, the fine times they had on that porch
The rocker's still there, needing propulsion
So if you need shade from the sun's scorch
Maybe buying this house is your compulsion