The Old Wicker Chair
That old chair in the corner
For years, it was my friend
Especially when I sat alone
With no one’s ear to bend
Its wicker wings and peacock flair
Crowned the little room
Perched next to my window
Dancing with my broom
Tucked inside its cushions soft
Of white and blue and pink
I would rest or maybe read
Sometimes, I’d just think
Perhaps, I’d sip a cup of tea
Imagining my day
Or wondering my travels
While dreams whisked me away
I’ll not forget the hours
Enveloped by its charm
That I enjoyed so blissfully
Leaning on its arm
Copyright © Mike Gentile | Year Posted 2019
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