Old Wooden Rocker

There’s an old wooden rocker, golden honey in color
lovingly assembled by the hands of my father.
Smooth, rounded edges greet my touch as I trace
the arm where tiny fingers once rested.

Each nick, each scratch, each flaw in the wood
tell stories of comfort and of pleasure,
of children reading softly and of giggling laughter
years of rocking with dolls and with sisters.

The drawer beneath holds a secret hiding place
for dozens of trinkets and treasures –
Christmas ornaments and bracelets of beads
hidden…sometimes ‘til months later.

I hear melodies sung by children in years past
while they sat gently rocking in this chair.
Tunes of “Twenty Froggies” and “Twinkle Little Star”
warm my soul like a breath of summer air.

As I gaze upon this most cherished possession
I’m reminded of the meaningful bond
that joins my family together: mother, daughter, sister, father
Like the spindles holding tightly to this chair.