Grandma's Rocking Chair

The old rocker reposed by the hearth longer than I can remember. 'Twas Grandma's favorite chair, she cherished it as a family member! From it she dispensed abounding love, wisdom and wit, Rhythmically rocking, never minding the squeaks it would emit! What a special privilege it was to recline at her feet, Enthralled by tales of her past, of which her repertoire was replete! As she grew older, tho' her gnarled fingers were not as nimble, She'd still relax in the rocker with needle, thread and thimble! In the eventide, she'd read her Bible, glasses perched upon her nose, Then afterwards with Tabby in her lap, take her usual doze. Later, the family would gather around her and the chair, To reminisce, sing, then kneel for evening prayer. The cat invariably got his tail crushed as Grandma rocked the chair, Creating a fit of yowling, hissing and an inscrutable glare! But the wily old dog learned from the first day of his birth, To give Grandma and her rocker a very cautious berth! Tho' Grandma and her rocking chair are no longer around, Precious memories of her holding sway in that old rocker abound. I suspect that on the other side of that far and mysterious veil, She presides in a rocker, as saints gather to hear her regale! Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)