Treasure Island

satira black

(Portland, Maine)

The Chair


It was cherry wood
An old rocking chair the color of aged wine
The seat and back were covered in worn velvet
It sat by the window in my upstairs bedroom
The breeze would ruffle the curtains as I rocked
My books beside me as I rocked
My music on as I rocked
I would rock and write
I would rock and think
I was safe in the chair
The room my sanctuary

Submitted: Monday, October 08, 2007
Edited: Thursday, April 14, 2011
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