That chair in the corner
looks comfy,
he thought,
or more,
he had thought
and continued to think.
Its brown leather
had been worn in
but by who?
The previous owner?
who was that?
he wondered.
It looked so far away,
like it had
hopped backwards
only moments before.
It’s almost like it’s scared
but it’s a chair,
so that’s not possible.
If it were it would make noises
Or give some sort of
Impression that is was.
Suppose it did look a bit
frowny, come to think of it.
“Tea’s ready”
Who’s this?
: thoughts on footwear and fleeting poems