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Rocking Chair

Alone in the south facing room,
with three big picture windows,
my mother sits in her favourite recliner.
I observe her from the hallway.
Rocking in the chair with a sleeping cat on her lap,
stroking his back while he purrs.
I remember when I was young,
when instead of the fat tabby, it was me on her lap.
Rocking slowly until I drifted asleep.
Though cats are good company,
I just hope she does not grow lonely when I go away.

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Poetic Justice

Real Words for the Real World. Youth Poetry that speaks the truth.