Your Favorite Chair

You love to sit quietly,

Upon your favorite chair.

You spend hours dreaming,

Playing with the fringes of your hair.

You find serenity there,

Beyond the comfort you seek.

You who must appear to be strong,

Allow yourself to be weak,

Upon your favorite chair.

It knows the silences of you,

It understands the depths.

It has held you still,

While the storms raged anew.

And no matter your worries,

You know they fade away,

Once you curl against the arms,

Of your favorite chair.

Where you know how it feels,
To be free.  To be whole. To be pure.
Where no matter the disease,

You know you'll find relief,

Curled up and secure,
Upon your favorite chair.

The censer sits in the corner,

Filling the room with frankincense.

You mumble, shift your seat,

And draw up your knees,

To rest your perfect chin.

You think your happiest thoughts,
Upon your favorite chair.

Your spirit soars to the Sun,

You look down at the city,

Huddled against the Sea.
Rest as long as you need.

The music ever plays there,

The cups stay full of tea.

Home waits for you, in the room

That holds your favorite chair.

Because your favorite chair, is me.