This Old Couch
A poem about unconditional love
This old couch,
time capsule,
look at you.
The seat of mine’s memories,
holding on to summer’s grains of sand,
in worn in corduroy grooves.
In a world,
quick to replace old,
you’re loyal.
Still holding onto our memories.
Measuring our bodies.
Keeping count,
of those we’ve lost,
and those we’ve added.
You’re there,
even when we wanted to give you ‘way.
You forgave us.
And gave us a seat,
and respite,
still.
You were there all along,
While we looked for new.
Old sofa,
Giving Tree.
Forgive me,
for only realizing,
that an old sofa,
a good, old sofa,
is unconditional love.
This old body.
Why are you any different?
My sweet time capsule,
look at you.
The seat and sustenance,
of mine childs’ growing bodies,
Worn into you.
Lucky you.
In a world,
quick to replace old,
You’re loyal.
Still holding onto our memories.
Keeping count of those we lost,
and those we’ve added.
You’re there.
Even when I wanted to give you ‘way,
you forgave me.
And gave me a home,
and respite,
still.
You were there all along,
While I looked for new.
Old body,
Giving Tree.
Forgive me,
for only realizing,
that an old body,
A good, old body,
Is Unconditional love—
Imagine,
lost stories,
like sunken treasures,
when you beg rid of an old couch.
When you erase fine lines,
from squinting smiles,
during summer days,
and children’s achievements.
If we traded everything in for new,
what stories would be left
to tell
About unconditional love.