Grandma’s Rocking chair

In the darkness nights

of the coldest storms

An old man wakes up

in his house of stone

He stokes the fire

his hands clam and cold

He sits on his rocking chair

silent and alone

Deep in his own thoughts

he rocks to and fro

Seems like tonight’s company

will be shadows on walls

tomorrow’s breakfast

oatmeal and bread

recreational activity

collecting old stamps

and then all of a sudden

a wave of sleepiness sweeps

hits him to a snooze

he yawns and sighs

his eyes drooping low

“Let this be my last”

he silently hoped

and there he slept

on the rocking chair

engraved with the words

“Wait for me, I’ll be there”



2 thoughts on “Grandma’s Rocking chair

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