There’s a red front porch and a screen door slam,

Ice on the glass in my small-town hands,

Mama on the stove with the radio low,

And the world felt big from a linoleum floor.

I can still hear the creek by the gravel road,

Bare feet racing where the wildflowers grow,

We didn’t know how fast the years would go,

But I hold that light where I go.

It’s a childhood memory, soft and bright,

Like a porch light glowing in the backseat night,

A little lost time, but it still knows me,

In my heart, it lives on free.

Every scar, every mile, every face I see,

Still leads me back to that childhood memory.

Dad in the yard with a rusted-out swing,

Laughing so loud it could wake anything,

Summer on my tongue like a cherry-freeze,

And the whole wide world fit in the shade of the trees.

Now I’m grown, but when the rain comes down,

I’m that kid again on the edge of town,

Chasing fireflies through the midnight air,

Feeling safe because they were there.

It’s a childhood memory, soft and bright,

Like a porch light glowing in the backseat night,

A little lost time, but it still knows me,

In my heart, it lives on free.

Every scar, every mile, every face I see,

Still leads me back to that childhood memory.

And if I close my eyes, I can almost be

The one I was in that childhood memory.