Musings of an Old Couch

Written for:  The Sunday Muse #64

couch on road.png

I cannot fathom
why they left me
in this spot,
but I am grateful
to be out in twilight’s
air–a pleasure. I
was a sleek treasure
long ago. Now I am
stained, drained,
my springs sag,
and my skin is marked 
by claws of various pets.  I
smell of stale beer,
popcorn cheer, human
sweat. Color of dirty
mustard. If a young
struggling couple should
happen by, look me over,
and decide I am just
what they need, they would
be willing to have me cleaned. Oh,
how I hope they do not smoke.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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4 Responses to Musings of an Old Couch

  1. Carrie V. H. says:

    You have spoken for the couch wonderfully Sara, and i love the ending! As always thank you for joining us Sara! It is always a pleasure to read your poetry!


  2. Margaret Elizabeth Bednar says:

    …the memories – if they only COULD talk.


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