The Chair Nobody Sits In

because it squeaks
only comes to table
when we have a crowd
and is present for all the best gatherings.

I was told a year ago –
okay, maybe two –
a man over in Boaz could fix it right,
tighten it up,
get rid of the squeak,
but I’ve dilly-dallied taking it there.

Maybe today.
Maybe tomorrow.
Or next week or next month.

We spent a marvelous five minutes together this morning,
the chair and I,
with shadow the only witness
and shutter-click the soundtrack.

And I began to wonder who’d sat in it
before it came here
and what was on their mind when they did.

But all this thinking will keep me from today’s work,
if I don’t put the camera down and move on.

Stories brew from the commonest of things,
easily overlooked,
right under our noses.

Just fooling’ around today with something in the house that caught my eye.

About Marilyn

Reading, thinking, listening, writing and talking about faith, creativity, ESL for refugees, grief and finding the story in a story. Student of Spanish. Foe of procrastination. Cheez-it fan. People person with hermit tendencies or vice-versa. Thank you so much for reading.
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4 Responses to The Chair Nobody Sits In

  1. Sharon O says:

    I like it … you did a great job.


  2. What a lovely poem. I can feel like I’m right there watching you rock in it and write this.


  3. Belinda says:

    I bet babies were rocked in that chair!


  4. Marilyn says:

    It’s not a rocker, but it’s funny two of you have mentioned rocking. Perhaps that’s a sign that when (if) I ever take it to be fixed, I should have the man convert it to a rocker. 🙂


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