She sat there so lonely, this rocking chair on the last row of GW. Looking like a wallflower at the prom. I could relate. Oh, could I relate.
Kind of painful to look at. Her skirt had seen finer days.
Her seat had, too. I felt a little embarrassed for her.
She begged me to come and sit awhile. But I couldn’t. You see, she was covered in cat hair and, well, I’m allergic. That was reason enough to move on, wasn’t it? To pretend I didn’t see her?
Her legs had been gnawed on. I tried not to imagine what may have been visiting her in the dark of an old shed.
But she told me of the babies she had rocked. The nights of fever and crankiness. The days of sweet sunshine and drowsy smiles. She cried for a second chance. God has given me a second and third and more. How could I refuse?
This rocking chair, to be cont’d… yes, she will.