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Across the room, across many rooms

since 1830, it waits stoically.

Puckered leather back sunken a bit,

about an inch, or some inches lower

to fit the little ones—the armrests’

well-worn finish, buffeted to its essence.

So long at rest, hands that reached

for its weathered knobs,

over almost two centuries,

worn down, from the tug and lift

that helped us rise.



Jean Cassidy  2023

art and education, family history, wnc poetry, women arts, women writers

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