If I were a rocking chair

If I were a rocking chair,

so many memories I would hold, 

of very young mothers 

 and grandpas so old.

Of teething and crying

and tempers big and small,

of very young children

growing up strong and tall.

Of hurts and complaints

and serious worries,   

of heartache and  injuries

 and of stormy winter flurries.

The hours of rocking

all have stories to tell  

and if I were a rocking chair,

I would treasure them well.

The End

20 comments about this poem Feed