A Child's Chair

For what is a memory,
After years it has stood.
And a child's chair goes down,
To kindling wood.

Passed one to another,
A lovable throne.
All changed in design,
To be their own.

Worn are its roundings,
Where tiny feet climbed.
And eager their pleadings,
As their feedings were timed.

So great was the need,
With the plate and the cup.
And for the want of a morsel,
A kitty...looks up.

Ah...it's a pleasure,
As lips part to pray.
By use it is crumbling,
In a wood-worn way.

For what is a memory,
After forty years stood.
And a child's chair goes down,
To kindling wood.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

This is a creation by a magical little girl who is my neighbor. I occasionally plant little 'fairies' in a nook or cranny.