The chair was planted with a few words thrown in after a long day, even if the day had been short, the words would have poured out. As if my mouth was a garden hose and the tap was controlled with a quick twist, out came words that grew a chair. They have taken a seat, and stare at me; "Hello do you remember what you said?"
Words planted, deep in the soil of a person…they can caress a small desire to grow, they can stifle the aims of ones longing… what type of seeds do you plant? Do they change with the seasons?
The chair grows, amongst the ivy, rusty and worn, sturdy and inviting. What are the words that have created you…
photo: in my parent’s garden, an old chair sits and recalls conversations of yesterday.
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