Placing the key inside the door
I hear the click and push it open
Over in the corner
Of a room in my home
I seldom find myself in
Is a chair
Old and dust-covered
Covered in years of dust
From years of neglect
Cobwebs and memories covered by dust
Brushing away the idleness
I coughed up some memory
As I inhaled some guilt
From the dust of harsh neglect
Why had I never once sat in this chair
Why do I never come here
I decide against myself and sit down
I sway backwards
I sway forwards
This old chair is rocking
It's my grandmother's old rocking chair
So many memories
Under so much dust
Recovered by guilt
And enjoyed in my reverie
I have sat in this chair before
Long ago before she left me
To collect dust of my own
Tears fall from my cheeks
I remember why I never come here
This was grandma's room
This was her
Our chair
She would rock me to sleep and carry me to bed
But then she left
I ran into this room
And cried myself to sleep in rhythm to the rocking
Standing up again
I dry my tears
And replace the dust
But this time I promise myself
Not to forget this room
This chair
These memories
But with the dust in place and the door now shut
I have already forgotten
About the chair.
 
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