LITTLE RED CHAIR

by 
Gwen Austin

Copyright 2000

Oh how I loved to linger there.
On that chair with woven seat,
the 'me' of my life could not be beat.
No longer older-sister-me,
nor shy-me, nor preacher's kid-me,
in that chair with flowered-blue slats,
 I could be the me who wasn't me.

As the wall clock ticked my childhood by,
with Sky King I would fly.
I'd 'mush' with Yukon King,
or scoff at danger
as Tonto or the Lone Ranger.

I'd walk the paths of old
during the Greatest Story Ever Told.
I'd shiver and quake
and tingle to my toes
as the mystery unfolded
in The Shadow Knows.

Now that I'm older
and somewhat bolder,
I wonder who I'd be
if in that chair I had not sat.

Would the me of me be me?

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