Rocking Chair
By: Sarah
Creak, Creak. The wooden doors swing open and shut
They’re withholding my fate, Anubis at his gates.
The cold, metal bench beneath me shudders
Even the chair knows my fate is near.
A court of eyes bare through me, and I shut my own
Attempting to lean back, though the stiff chair restricts
Back into the crumbling brown armchair
With the scratchy leather and rocking bottom
Creak, Creak it goes
Tapping to the rhythm of my father’s voice, bringing forth
The tales of brave Jack and Annie
Magical Peter
Clever Charlotte
The cushy fabric carries me home
The bang of a gavel brings me back
But no, not if I close my eyes
Then it’s not the gavel
But simply the tantalizing pop of popcorn
The aroma mixing with the delight of chapters to go
I wish that the chapters had frozen
That the tree house never landed
Children never grew old
Doting friends never passed
That the seemingly eternal rocking chair never ceased.
I rise, hearing destiny’s echo
No, I rise to go to sleep, for another chapter tomorrow
At least that’s what I keep telling myself
My fairy tales follow me, comfort me
As the black bars close behind me
With a resounding creak, creak.