Chair

by HANKarcher

There’s a chair in the corner of
my bedroom
wooden
that I never sit in.
It
just sits.
Leaning,
arms crossed,
with a smoker’s attitude.

I at first
dropped it there to keep it out of the way.
Then it looked good,
academic, warm.

Finally, I promised me I’d
read in it —
only my favourite books.
To remind me the bedroom
isn’t only for sleeping.

Today and tonight, like
every day I can remember here,
I walked in,
shuffling,
looked at it, nodded, got
the same in return.
And fell to the sheets
in prayer.
Too tired.
Too worked.
Too dizzy with days
to sit or read

and remember.

20120206-202042.jpg
photo Jo ©2012

Advertisements