Ol Bertha 

I have an old wooden rocking chair that’s held together by the grace of God

I call her Ol Bertha

The glue that once held her creaking joints in place has long since dried up, and has given her a crackly old voice

She’s rocked every baby in my family to sleep for two generations, and held me in familiar arms when she was the only comfort I could find

She has been a silent witness to the good and bad for over thirty years

Now that I’m alone

She’s an old friend…a time machine

We share memories over sweet iced tea

And secrets over whiskey 

There is something so comforting and familiar about my rocking chair

So much love and happiness caught up in the grain of her wood

That I’d sooner die than live without her

Life is funny that way, I guess

Of all of the people who’ve come and gone

I prefer Ol Bertha to them all 

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