Grandma's Rocker

BY CAROLE NICHOLS

It sits there by the fireplace,
A knitting basket by it's side;
A worn shawl resting on it's back,
It's curved seat, firm and wide.

She often sits with busy hands,
They've never known an idle day;
And she sings as she sits rocking;
A soft song to lift her cares away.

That old rocker's always moving,
With a creaking rhythm of it's own;
The sound is oddly soothing,
One of the few comforts she's known.

The chair has rocked her babies,
As she brushed away their tears;
It has heard all her stories,
As she rocked there through the years.

It came to her as a young wife,
It was there when her husband died;
It has heard her laughter, felt her pain;
It's seen her sorrow, known her pride.

It greets her like an old, old friend;
It keeps her secrets and memories near.
Just an old worn out rocker to some,
But to her, it's priceless and dear.