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That Old Rocking Chair
That old rocking chair sets in the attic, the varnish is dried out and the cherry wood is cracked. One of the rounds is missing from its gothic back. The years have silently evaporated into decades, since the days it rocked that little baby boy to sleep in his Grandma’s arms. In front of the old pot bellied stove during the cold winter storms. Grandma is gone and the little boy is now an old man. Everything has changed except, the old rocker which has stayed the same. If only it could talk, the stories it would tell. Memories of a life time which is almost gone, but will never be forgotten as long as I have my Grandson, that old rocking chair and a lock of Grandma’s hair.
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