Porch Story

Outside the old cottage
were the two
old cane rocking chairs.

They were a fixture
as long as memory allowed.
In between them
a small table
covered in stains
from coffee tea
beer and wine.

A folded newspaper
often resting on it.
waiting for morning coffee.

They had seen
national events.
the change
of many presidents>
two world wars.
Children and grandchildren.
Summers springs and winters.
Too many to count

The varnish now
faded and dull
They were always a fixture
of life’s tranquil moments
always there
always to be relied upon
as permanent.

Until today
There is only one chair.
A portrait of abject loneliness.
A painting of sadness.
That will never go away.