Old ladder-back chair with woven seat
always sat by Grandma's front door.
Because no one ever sat on it . . .
I often wondered what it was for.
One of a kind chair, always stood alone
never used by family or guest.
When Grandma died, Mom brought it home . . .
where it sat by the hearth to rest.
If Grandma's chair had talked then
about all the people it met.
I'd have listened carefully to every tale . . .
and promised to never, ever forget.
Now Grandma's chair belongs to me
it seems content in every way.
With soft cushion, and all polished like new . . .
I use it most every day.
Grandma's chair holds a place of honor
where it sits in front of my desk.
It makes me sit straight and tall . . .
while it helps me write my very best.
I truly believe a chair can be happy
and there's no doubt this one is.
With a mission in life to keep going . . .
there is always a reason to live.