I am More Than a Chair

 

I am a chair.

I am wood, leather, textiles of wool, metal screws and old varnish.

I was once a part of a tree, a cow and a sheep.

I am comfort for the weary.

I am the very spot John proposed to Sarah in 1956.

I am where Ellen sat and cried her eyes out because she just lost her mom.

I am a step stool to help people reach new heights.

I am the corner chair where you store all your favorite books that you want to re-read someday.

I am the weapon you hoisted over your shoulder when you thought you had a house invader and then realized it was just the wind.

I am the chosen place at the dining table you preferred while you were growing up.

I am the place you sat while signing the papers for your first house.

I held you on many occasions when you laughed so hard you cried.

I am the spot on which your soul rested when you didn’t know what you were going to do next.

I am the place you plop all your stuff after a long day, and I hold it until the next.

I am always here so you can rest.

I am more than a chair.