Ranting From a Chair
I am but a slave among lives hidden features
Who cares what I crave midst these two-legged creatures
I crave superb polish and fine furniture wax
Extremely strong wood glue and upholstery tacks
To be moved more toward the shade and less in the sun
To have a tung oil bath, ah, now that would be fun
I crave to be gently rocked and read to again
Like when grandpa was alive and Jimmy was ten
But most of all to stay in my room at the keep
And be warmed by the fire until I fall asleep
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