The Idle Rocking Chair

THE ROAMING WRITERAs the sun sets over the parched grass prairie, it casts its final light on the worn porch of a deserted cabin. There sits an old wooden rocking chair. The peeled paint from years of use reveals its true color. A strong wind blows and awakens the chair to life. The old rocker glances out into the vast land and purple sky .It remembers days gone by. It recalls the young farmer who would rock it back and forth. It feels the farmer’s weight as he sat arm on arm. It smells the sweet fragrance from the farmer’s pipe. Lap, the farmer’s loyal companion would keep them company. It hears the gentle but firm voice of the farmer, and recalls when he said, “ Nothing lasts but the love of those that touch us.” The Farmer and Lap are no more. Although years have taken them, the memories linger on in the old rocking chair’s mind. Now, the sun settles into the night. All becomes dark and still again. The old rocking chair sleeps, and dreams.