There is a special chair.
It’s not mine.
I like to use it anyways.
It is so easy to take.
It moves
Like a walking pace.
It can go faster,
But not for my mother.

I remember when I first met you.
You’ve been around like anything that’s come before me.
Already there.
The shiny handle rims
On wheels.
It always looked like
A giant silver grapefruit
Cut in half.
The thought makes me smile.
I always thought it was so heavy then
I couldn’t lift
But I could knock it over.
Make the giant grapefruit spin
Faster and faster.
I would have to stop it.
Give it back.
It’s not mine.
It is needed.

You’ve changed a lot
Over the years
Just like me.
You’re still needed.
My mother walks less these days.
Now-a-days
I push you more then I use to.
I spend so much time around you.
I’m not afraid.
You’re not mine.

I’ve used you before.
When I was little
I would see how it felt to ride in
My mother’s personal chariot.
It was complicated
To be bound to a movable chair
The way she was.
If I fell over, I could get
Up again.
My mother could not.
You are still needed.
You chariot with silver
Sliced grapefruit wheels.
You are not mine.

You’ll always be around
You’re still needed
Till death parts you