The Rocking Chair
When a child with mood tuned to channel pout,
I cherished how you chose to repose me.
You chair-rocked soothing beats with arms about
me, your small lap-wrap, and lulled me gloom free.
Your gentle love nurtured my self-image.
Grown, I still feel Grannie-pats on my back
that once love filled me in your rocking chair.
Time’s chase cannot displace our love with lack
for still I rock in your love’s sure graced flair.
Decades death laid swayed not your dear visage.
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