Born into the world by loving hands.
A lifetime being pushed around, used by many.
A whole generation grew up and transformed around him.
There for the Christmases, birthdays and family gatherings.
Saw times of love, happiness and conflict.
Yet he sat and watched,
letting fate decide his destiny.
His skin darkened with age,
torn clothes in need of repair.
Now, old and tattered,
he sits under the shade of a porch alone,
as weeks, months, years go by.
No one comes by anymore,
no one seems to care.
But he will never be completely abandoned.
The one whom he first saw,
the one who used him most,
also loved him most.
He will never be let go.
So now he waits.
Waits for the day when he will be loved once again.
Maybe by a new generation,
or a new family entirely.
Nevertheless, he will always be
the old rocking chair.
