They Sit Together on the Porch

I found this poem earlier today at the WorldMag Blog. Very touching.


They sit together on the porch, the dark
Almost fallen, the house behind them dark.
Their supper done with, they have washed and dried
The dishes–only two plates now, two glasses,
Two knives, two forks, two spoons–small work for two.
She sits with her hands folded in her lap,
At rest. He smokes his pipe. They do not speak,
And when they speak at last it is to say
What each one knows the other knows. They have
One mind between them, now, that finally
For all its knowing will not exactly know
Which one goes first through the dark doorway, bidding
Goodnight, and which sits on a while alone.

Click here for poems by Ray Fowler.


  1. Margaret says:

    That poem is beautiful, – It made me cry so much, I had to stop everything and get control, before I could go on reading the blog! As a seventy-plus-year-old, it hits home, and describes us as a couple (minus the pipe!), as we often sit on the porch like that. We are grateful for the wonderful companionship we share together, knowing each day is a precious gift from God.

    Thanks for sharing this poem.

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