Porches On the Bayou

The night is mellow enough that I could sit in its yolked street light
And read to these crickets
Bringing the warmth and melody of Summer.

It is romantic this night,
Like so many of my childhood,
On this street,
And the crickets sound,
As If creating their own symphony.

The peace breathes a breath of the slightest chill,
But mostly,
It is a serenity outside our prison walls;
My home:
My mother's home.

It is as if I've stepped into an alternate garden, an alternate place,
Magical and fresh,
Freeing and so much more OF me;
Who I REALLY am.

The chaos literally relaxing through my feet and hitting the grass beneath,
My chest, haulting its collapsing,
And the air so sweet,
So islandy,
I feel as though I have stepped into another place heavenly..
Almost like walking on stars.

I don't know how it could be. Mostly,
I just feel the pain of this house;
The old irony...

But somehow, this night,
Stepping out,
I feel as though I am on bayou balconies,
Crickets and toads a chatter,
Magical lights scouring around
And dancing the tune of another place.
Trees draping and fields for barefeet and lovers to hide in the night...
This,
Is what I've stepped into outside.
Someplace warm and inviting for once.
Someplace free and calling forth the magic..
Tangible in dancing fireflies,
Tangible in starry skies..

Tangible
In me.
Sitting here.
Dreaming.
In yolked lamplight,
And Summer's never there,
Calling me...
There is a serenity.
Peace.
Porches on the bayou
And summer dresses dreaming.