That porch chair don’t rock,
there ain’t a need
to keep tempo
out here.

in silence,
next to white blossoms
of the Sweet Magnolia,

waves of honey
near the ancient oak
that yet longs to conquer seas.

Where she’s carried two centuries
of sun powered memories,
guarding moments beneath her shade,
holding promises for the future.

there ain’t much out here,
but the comfort of closed eyes, deep breaths,
and the time to enjoy it all
at your own pace.