Rocker's Tale.
No-nonsense chair, it solidly graces
the kitchen-hearth corner,
cushioned, prepared
for heavy or lightweight to try pacing
it's movement of hypnotic rock.
Shared
by centuries now of differing sized hands,
it glows with polish, asthmatically groans
when abused,
but some carpenter planned
this object of strength.
Time-capsule, honed
by soothing memory,
embedded there in stories, unfolded
while rocking.
Moments
soporificly sped,
plans quietly aspired
around family secrets I found pent
up in this chair.
Stroke it and feel vibrant
lives striving for betterment.
Realized
hopes, all float here in distressed wood,
dyed in somnolent rhythm
and greatly prized.
Phantom faces flicker in it's depth, will
they share more secrets if I sit still?
love old pieces of furniture if only the could talk
A great tribute to an unlikely subject!
thanks for the lovely memories I'd stored away..my Grandmother had a rocker & would sit in it & tells me stories of her life when she was young..seems like great stories & old rocking chairs go hand in hand....its nice reminiscing...