Front Porch Persona

We sit on the front porch steps,

feet grounded firmly on the cold cement,

Old Lady Cass and I.

Aged women that we are,

we watch our yougen play.

Occasionally, he will bring up some treasure he’s found,

for our approval.

A stink, a rock, a worn plastic bag,

that we take for his own safety.

Only three, everything and anything has the ability to hold Teddy’s attention,

if only for a moment.

He chases himself across the bricks,

as Cass and I fall captive to the traffic’s incessant snore.

A warm breeze, the first of its kind this year,

like an old melody dances about us,

before running off to join Teddy in his plight to pull a root from the cracked ground.

We soak in the luke-warm air,

in ancient contentment we rest,

undisturbed, under the watchful gaze of early spring.

But, alas, as the day ages,

I must shake the weariness from my still youthful body,

and, standing, call for Teddy.

He comes, so I may put a leash on him,

excited for a new adventure.

And Cass slowly stands and stretches,

shaking the warm sunlight from her back,

to, also, obediently take her leash.

And I stand there,

two hearts in my hands,

and gaze upon their toothy, tongue-filled smiles,

before slowly moving towards the gate,

just a 15-year-old girl walking with her two dogs.

Author's Note

I'm trying to get the feeling of two old women watching a toddler, 3ish, maybe one of their grandchildren, play on the side walk outside of a grimey section of New York, this is how I felt, a similie to me and my girl dog sitting outside watching our boy puupy new dog play.