From The Rocking Chair

From The Rocking Chair

On the porch, faded from the sun,
Sits an old rocking chair.
Made of wood, painted white,
Looks of a lot of wear.

That chair has seen a lot of things,
From the years that have come and gone.
But quietly it has sat,
Overlooking the lawn..

Generations have sat on this chair,
Many babies rocked to sleep.
It’s seen older children moved on in life,
As grandma sat and weep.

Many young’ns grew up on this porch,
Until ones lap could no longer hold.
There’s been talk of a bigger chair,
But never has one been sold.

On this chair grandpa slipped away,
With his memories still in hand.
War times stories he would tell,
Of his love for this land.

From this chair I’ve sat a lot of my life,
Saw our nation come under attack.
The arms have stains of my tears,
As I dealt with this cowardly act.

But not all the view from this chair,
Has a dark cloud directly above.
This chair has seen a lot of things,
Most of them dealing with love.