A rocking chair sits
On the porch
Of a house
On the corner of ol’ Honey Lane.
It looks over fields of lavender stems
And rocks with the wind and the rain.
I grew up walking past it,
On ol’ Honey Lane,
And would sometimes drop by for a swing.
I brought books and some snacks,
Played with dollies and jacks,
This poor rocker withstood everything.
I grew a bit older but kept coming back
To my rocker on ol’ Honey Lane.
I’d bring it my sorrows and rock til the morrow,
Forgetting my worries and pain.
The gentle caressing of lavender lullabies
Scattered the clouds of grey.
And whene’er I was lonely, I knew that only
My rocker could brighten my day.
Still older I grew and soon began dreaming
Of cities more couth and refined.
So I hopped on a plane, fled my ol' Honey Lane
And left my poor rocker behind.
I traded my jeans for a dazzling dress,
And dollies for wine and pearls.
But nothing within could dare to trade in

The mem’ry of that young, little girl.
The girl who spent hours watching lavender fields,
On the corner of ol’ Honey Lane.
I knew without haste, there was no time to waste,
I had to go find her again.
So back home I flew, to see family and friends,
To smell lavender waft through the air.
I ran to the porch of the old corner house,
And saw my dear old rocking chair.
I hopped on it’s seat, kicked my feet off the ground,
And remembered the wind and the rain.
As the sun went to sleep in the lavender fields,
So I slept on my rocker
On ol’ Honey Lane.

- p. winter