the Rocking Chair
Someone told the story about their grandfather’s love for his wife. She passed first from this deadly virus. He passed a few months later from heartbreak. I was so moved and it prompted me to write this poem as a memorial. God bless their souls and may their memories be a blessing. As of today 216,000 people are dead. More than 25,000 more can potentially die if the deaths continue at the rate of 1000 deaths daily by election day. Please vote!
It sits there waiting for him to come back,
He who loved it best
will never return to it again,
to share his joys
in silence, and sometimes
whisper his long held secrets.
Like how he should have let her win the argument
she was so passionate about.
Like how he ate the tofu but he really hated it.
He gave that rocking chair a special purpose.
It rocked him to sleep when he missed her the most,
and could not bare to sleep in the bed they shared for so many years.
It tolerated his snoring when she could not.
It did not complain when he packed his three grandchildren on to it.
He loved their hugs and kisses so much.
The rocking chair brought him peace.
He loved its attention;
and often was the sole witness
as he smiled
when his dreams were the sweet dreams
that brought her back to him.