Front Porch Light: Edgewood's Enduring Embrace

Lyrics

[Intro]
Dusk settles on Mayson Avenue.
And you come on.
Just a single yellow bulb.
Hello, little light.

[Verse 1]
They flipped your switch in nineteen-oh-nine.
The year the city line moved, and this house became Atlanta.
You were a miracle then.
A clean, electric fire against the pine scent of a brand new porch.
You burned over conversations about Joel Hurt's new trolley line.
You cut through the dark when the last streetcar rumbled home.

[Verse 2]
Then the tracks went quiet.
Paint started to peel in the seventies.
The big oaks got bigger, their shadows deeper.
Kids grew up and moved away.
But you stayed.
A beacon for a borrowed car pulling into the drive.
A promise against the long, humid nights when the only other sound was the cicadas' drone.
You just held your ground.

[Chorus]
You just burn.
A quiet testament on a painted wood frame.
You don't remember every name, you just soothe the grain.
You saw the for-sale sign go up, and then come down again.
Front porch light, my oldest friend.
You just burn.

[Bridge]
Now there’s a new sound.
The whir of a bicycle, the laugh of a jogger on the trail.
They call it the BeltLine Pulse.
A different kind of rumble.
The house next door is gone, and a new one stands taller.
But you shine on their strange new cars.
You shine on the cracks in the old sidewalk.
You make no distinction.

[Outro]
The ice in my glass melts.
The rocking chair creaks a slow rhythm.
Thank you for this circle of warm, yellow peace.
This enduring embrace.
Goodnight, little light.