July 19, 2023

It'd been so long since they parted,

Left by the curb

(Some doubt about who abandoned whom),

On a street quickly losing passers-by

And the deep roots of the residents.

Back to the couch

Strode the return of the king,

Or the knave, maybe the fool,

To poke at the stuffing,

Look under the cushions.

-------------------------------

What did he find?

What had been left behind?

-------------------------------

A few recognizable threads,

Stitches that strain to hold

Together the glories of the past

With the promise of any future:

Tensile strength somehow surviving a brute force.

Overall, though, he found not enough

Of the craft that made the battered

Old couch a place to plop down

A backside, wallet brimming or not,

Leaving him bereft and beyond remorse.