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![Image for the poem Memoirs of a Chair](/images/uploads/poemimages/501071.jpg?1705697598)
Memoirs of a Chair
I've weathered through countless ages,
Severed from my tree's vibrant stage.
As dead wood, I linger and gaze,
My remnants crafted into a chair's embrace.
For ages, many have sat upon my frame,
Young ones leaping, a part of their game.
Sometimes I tumble, at times I slide,
In anger, tossed to the side.
Yet within me reside the musings,
Of all who rested, in myriad choosings.
Silently, I shed unseen tears,
For my existence and all it bears.
Severed from my tree's vibrant stage.
As dead wood, I linger and gaze,
My remnants crafted into a chair's embrace.
For ages, many have sat upon my frame,
Young ones leaping, a part of their game.
Sometimes I tumble, at times I slide,
In anger, tossed to the side.
Yet within me reside the musings,
Of all who rested, in myriad choosings.
Silently, I shed unseen tears,
For my existence and all it bears.
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