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The Chair
To the one who sat here so very long ago
Rooted, I daresay, with so many things to sow
Your needlework is etched upon the faded fabric
Where the story you convey, is interwoven magic
Between the struts and arched divide
Your back you laid, with a family by your side
Each picture on this chair depicts a child you had
And a smiling husband that made you feel so glad
As years move on and life succumbs to change
No longer babes, they're all grown up and in the adult stage
When ceased your work and time you have
To craft upon the chair, those pictures sewn with love
Baby's boots upon the pins, a granny you'll be soon
A time to dress those tiny feet, count toes and really croon
But happiness and loss will at times go hand in hand
Those tears of joy are certain to make the grief disband
You sit and stitch upon this chair, your work so fair and neat
Now the story on this fabric is ended and complete
I wonder at this chair I bought, to see myself sit there
Content with thread and needle, affixed to this old chair
Copyright ©
Rose Johnson
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