The room sits still and quiet
With a stifling air of Victoriana about it
Hugely ornate mirrors cast to the walls
Detailed paintings depicting generations
Heavily brushed velvet wallpaper with dark
Elaborate leafy design
William Morris at his excellence
Shelf upon shelf
Heaving under the weight of journals
Glass cabinets brimming
With taxidermist delights
An owl so real
You would swear it blinked.
The clutter of the festooned room
Lay barren to the centre
As there sat a most cherished object
‘Grandfather's Chair'
As it was known to all
The finest mahogany
Sat rocking to itself
He would recline there for most of the day
Gently forcing the frame
Backwards and forwards in time
To the metronome which he set in motion
Purely for his own amusement
He would sit methodically tapping his feet and
Rocking relentlessly
Till cares loosened and faded to memory
Minutes ticked to hours
Until he was there no more