Chair

A rather ordinary creation, but I salute you every day for your aid.

You, the unmoving fixure in my life, never straying too far.

Through wear your cushion spills coarse cotton and threads fall to the ground.

And yet

When I scream in anguish and sit down heavily

you do not falter under me

When my spirits sink low and I slump lower

you do not let me fall.

for every action there is an equal but opposite reaction

You, frayed thing, are thus my other half.