I sit in my rockin chair
and think of things far and near.
Things like the weather,
and whether I want soup or salad for dinner.
I listen to the birds sing,
and think things, that make me dream.
I watch butterflies float,
And hear the bullfrog gloat.
says the squeak, of that old chair on the floor.
Regrets, hopes and prayers fly,
and not a day goes by, that you’re not on my mind.
Over and over again, over there, bye and bye
I got so much I need to do.
But… what do I really want to do?
The joy of that rockin chair;
Now where’s my friend to meet me there?
Copyright © Christopher Bunton | Year Posted 2019
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