Front Porch
John Hartford
My front porch looks right at your back porch
At the side of your house sits my car
Your laundry hangs there by my window
In the sun that shines down in our yard
When I come home I see you a leaving
When I am leaving you're just pulling in
At times I could reach out and touch you
But I am not even sure of your name
I saw you last round about midnight
From the front porch you seem so care-free
Like you never could ever be happy
To live in the country with me
I came up here hunting for riches
Of fortune and fame I had heard
But too long I've stared at your back porch
And now I'm a slave to your world
When the hair on my head turns to silver
My feet and my hands old and sore
I'll prop my old chair on the front porch
And gaze at your old kitchen door