The Old Man Sits On His Porch Poem by Christian Allen

The old man sits on his porch,
Thinking about the rain.
It used to rain like this in Georgia,
But wait, more gentle than this.

He lived in Seattle, and was sick of rain,
The connotation it pushed here was that
Of a burden, or chore or something to dread.

He remembered the droughts in the Georgia summer,
How everything chocked, pleaded for a release, for water.
His pipe was running dry of tobacco now,
And he had church to go to.

He chuckled as he stood with the help of his cane,
Mahogany, with a griffin, carved and at his side,
At all times, it was his release and protection, like the rain.