My Grandmother's Couch

I compare myself

To my grandmother’s couch.

Comforting and familiar,

With a slightly dusty smell.

Always waiting in the same spot

For me to collapse into

After I drop my luggage.

It hugs me and supports me,

And lets me go when I have strength to stand.

Welcoming to the weary soldier

Longing for home.

But when it comes time to leave,

It’s not the couch I bid farewell

Or regret to leave behind.

Were I to have the chance,

I wouldn’t take it home with me.

It doesn’t belong as a permanent

Fixture in my life,

But exists as a two-week summer fling.

Yes, the couch and I are quite similar

In our situations.

We are loved and seen as a relief, a vacation,

Yet, sadly, undesired for a home.

TL

1:01am

22 October 2002

(mostly completed at 1:50pm, 21 October 2002)