In worn embrace, a haven waits,
My favorite chair, a silent mate.
Its frame, like arms, outstretched and true,
Welcomes me back, the day is through.
The fabric, soft, a well-known friend,
Holds whispers of stories without end.
Laughter and tears, it's seen them all,
A silent witness, standing tall.
With creaks and sighs, it understands,
The weight of worries, held in hands.
A sanctuary from life's harsh tide,
Where solace finds me, deep inside.
More than wood and cloth it seems,
A canvas spun of fleeting dreams.
My favorite chair, a constant guide,
A haven where my soul can hide.
The Whiskered War
A domestic drama; rather, you're witnessing a millennium-old conflict over the fate of the entire planet (and possibly just a smA titanic struggle between wits and strength has been raging in the shadows for millennia: The Great Nibble vs. The Purrsecution. The cats, the furry fighters, the fascists of the feline world, occupy one corner. In the other, mice make up the squeaky squad, the small militia. The reward? Domination over the entire world (and possibly an especially tasty cheese wheel).
By Richard Weber2 days ago in Humor
Comments (4)
A comfortable chair can make you balance well and feel comfortable at your office
Nicely crafted. The rhythm of this piece flows quite smoothly. I have a new chair and it is not very satisfying. Yours seems much better.
Lovely poetic words.
Fantastic poem!