The Porch Light Lingers: Goodnight, Inman Park

Lyrics

The sun is down behind the trees.
The air cools.
A gift. The first evening breeze.

These floorboards, worn smooth by the years.
My hand on the banister, feeling the grain.
This rocking chair knows all the fears,
and all the quiet joy after the rain.
Joel Hurt set this house to face the south,
to catch this very breath in its mouth.
And the gingerbread trim, a delicate lace,
keeps the birds from this quiet place.

The gas lamps flicker down the street.
One by one, they make a chain of gold on Elizabeth.
No footsteps now. Just my own heartbeat.
Thinking of every life, and every death.
Asa Candler maybe walked right here,
his shadow long in the fading year.
How many stories does this porch hold?
Too many to be told.

And the porch light lingers, a soft, steady eye.
A small, warm sun in a darkening sky.
It holds the quiet, it holds the dream.
A patient, amber, silent stream.
Goodnight, Euclid. Goodnight, Edgewood.
The porch light lingers. And it is good.

I can hear the city, a distant hum.
The whisper of the BeltLine, what's to come.
From an iron stake and a trolley wire,
to this quiet moment of heart's desire.
The old plan is still here, under the stone.
A garden suburb, never quite alone.
The future walks where the old rails lie.
Beneath the same Atlanta sky.

The jasmine spills its scent on the air.
Just the creak of the swing chain.
I'll stay right here. In this chair.
Tomorrow, we'll do it all again.
The porch light lingers.
Goodnight, Inman Park.