That wicker furniture on the front porch,
it just silently sits there waiting to be sat in, to feel needed.

I gaze at it in passing with my German  Shepherd, and I picture things in my imagination, sights and sounds.
It squeaks and makes this crunching noise when someone does sit down into it.

Almost as if it were old and tired like the very idea of making wicker furniture is.
When it rains, it still sits there upon the porch.
It doesn't care if it gets wet.

It knows soon enough the sun will warm its brownish tan exterior, almost sun bathing and furthering it's golden shine.
Funny thing about this wicker furniture, well I think anyway.

It never makes a sound until you sit down in it.
When you do, it almost always has a story to tell.
Simply listen to it next time because perhaps, you haven't been listening closely or hard enough.



written by me... ..