Grandma's Place

The paint was cracked and weathered.
The 'welcome' chimes would ring.
But grandma's place was special with
her old porch swing.

Her dinners were delicious,
her cookies she would bring,
as rich aromas found me on
her old porch swing.

At times the wooden seat was damp.
The morning dew would cling -
but I couldn't keep from sitting on
her old porch swing.

The chains, stressed on occasion,
that held a many thing,
as every friend kept resting on
her old porch swing.

Served well those rusty bolts.
Though not for queen or king,
but all the folk were welcomed on
her old porch swing.

The conversations several -
the arm rest, everything -
as we discussed my problems on
her old porch swing.

Nothing makes my heart so glad
and nothing makes it sing,
until I think of grandma on
her old porch swing.

Many years have long since passed.
To memories, I will cling -
those days I sat with grandma on
her old porch swing.

The workers razed the homestead -
In fear, the birds took wing,
but always in my memory is -
her old porch swing.

Some say it wasn't special,
nor good for anything -
yet that's where I found Jesus - on
her old porch swing.