I took for granted

The chair that carries me,

ripped, worn and torn,

making space for that

which weighs on me.

This chair in the dust

of an unloved home

endures — just.

The same chair,

with the same

wear and tear,
in a loved space

pays tribute to

every bodily ache

and peaceful nap

it’s nursed.

My back reclines

into the nook you

keep indented

just for me.

Arms spoon mine

waist to thighs —

encased.

At ease up against

those there

for the long haul

bearing me with

unconditional embrace.