Old Ideas

I’ll forget my past 

One day

When sitting in a rocker

Having been placed there by 

Gentle

Hands that carry the strain

Of years of tolerant love

She’ll smile and sigh

And readjust my collar and tuck my wrap

-apple cherry stained tweed-

And with pained expression

She’ll heave another log into the fire

While vacant eyes behind her

Glisten and sparkle to the embers she stokes.