Roger J. Robicheau

AN OLD WOODEN CHAIR

An old wooden chair, out on the porch
Shaded by trees, the sun couldn’t scorch

A child loved to play, not far away
When tired this chair, was where to stay

If weather turned bad, as sometimes it would
The young one would sit, those arms felt good

This haven of rest, always was there
Like a mother in charge, always took care

As the years passed, the chair bore no change
But the small one did grow, adding new range

How quickly through high school, time fled by
And the child from that chair, said good-bye

Off to the service, such great pride did show
Protector of freedom, youthful brave glow

A loved one of course, now guards this chair
Holding fond memories, each one so dear

With prayers to God, dear mother does wait
Till her brave one’s home safe, a want so great

That now empty chair, shaded by trees
If it could just talk, starting with “Please…”

©Copyright 2006 by Roger J. Robicheau

Author’s Note: This poem is for our great Military Moms. God Bless their love.