Blue Mountain Arts Poetry Contest

Rocking Chair
by Linda Zammit

Seventh Contest
third Place

I will always remember the rocking chair in my grandmother's kitchen,
Its soft velvet cushion, warm against my bare legs,
With its colorful map of her homeland,
And its crimson tassels.
Everything about that chair reminds me 
Of the many moments spent with her,
Of where she came from,
And of who she was to those who loved her.
Sitting, swaying, rocking.
Strawberry ice-cream spilled years ago.
Stains that linger in a memory now.
Hospital beds,
Hands being held,
Letting go.
The chair remains long after she is gone.
It sits in my kitchen now.
I fall asleep, its rocking motion cradling me, 
As a mother does her infant.
Its smooth mahogany arms, 
Cool against my cheek. 
A green and white crocheted rug,
Aromas of times now passed.
She resides in the places I find warmth.
Time can be kind
For it allows us to find those we have lost.
I am woken by the telephone.
The rocking chair continues to sway 
Moments after I have left.
A gentle dance between here and there.
Only time between us 
Until I rest there again.