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An autobiography of rocking chair

By
I am not rock, James Rock.
I don't hurt nor people throw me around.
Rather they settle down on me.

Some hold my hands, some just drop their weight onto me, some swing and glide before settle and sing song on me.

They all come to me because they like to move to and fro. They cannot be still. I let them move so that something in them settles.

I was born long time ago in the great human mind of probably Benjamin Franklin. Some say it could be before but I don't recall.

I am just a little chair that can hold you like your mother when you were infant. She rocked you in her arms. I rock you in my lap.

Tired and lost
Fresh and bubbly
low or high
contemplative or chatter
morning or night
take a small flight
to and fro
wavering and then
settle down

I am your little rocking chair, in your garden, balcony or living room, matching or in contrast, waiting for you.

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