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