Reddish-brown leather, silver studs,
darkened to gunmetal by time
and mottled besides.
High wing back and buttons in the quilting
that look just like the speakers on the wall.
I see you, with glasses on your nose
looking up something in Halliwell’s.
I see you, eyes closed,
record on loud, dead to the world,
happiest on your own.
Were you afraid of my dad?
Was I?
He didn’t bite,
Just sat in his armchair under lamplight
and maybe he thought he’d be happy
if everything around could be kept just right.
This short poem was written as part of the ‘Alphabet Superset‘ programme: it is quick work and is unedited.
Late Romantic 
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