The old stool

 

 It is a four-legged stool made years ago
And got colored by her who is no more.
The stool she had fiercely guarded as own
As a thing of the heart, next to the bird.

 
The stool that would not be left behind
In house relocations, giving us body-lift
To the light-bulb, to a loft of empty things
To airy things of the sky and earth’s sweet
Water, the elixir of life, a support to logic.

 
It is from it we shall reach higher worlds
As it shall continue to leave us all behind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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