This Creaky Old Chair

I wrote this poem one night last week while I was rocking my fussy little girl. I have this old, antique rocking chair that was given to my mother who in turn gave it to me when I got married. As I rocked her it just came to me. I am not a writer but yet this piece I am very proud of. I hope you enjoy



This creaky old chair is were we sit,
each time you start to cry.
We rock and we sway
and I sing in a way
that makes the time go by.

This creaky old chair is were we sit,
when I simply want to hold you.
I whisper a song
and we rock along
For this is what we do.

This creaky old chair is were we sit
and I think of how you are growing.
I shed a small tear,
Out of a mother's fear,
At how quickly the time is going.

This creaky old chair is were you'll sit
and rock your little ones too.
You'll sing and you'll sway,
And rock in a way.
Just like I did for you.
In this creaky old chair.