We got you in your senior years
We sat on you in joy and tears.
Even then, you were old and lumpy–
Hard to sleep on, kind of bumpy,
Cat-picked and leaking foam from every source,
Except for the back of you, of course.
We had to cover you with swaths of fleeces
To cover up all your worn-out pieces–
You were low to the ground
And more than once I found
More stuffing out than stuffing in–
And twice I pricked myself upon a pin.
But still, thanks for being there
In spite of all your wear and tear–
You were a welcome seat
In winter’s cold and summer’s heat–
Often I fell asleep upon your cushions
And woke up hours later, wishin’
That I had gone sensibly to bed.
If so, I wouldn’t have an aching head,
As well hip and knee and arm and back–
That made me limp and shuffle and, in fact
Kept me from lying prone.
Instead I lay one side, which, had I known
Would make me sleep sporadic
Like a lone and insomniac haddock–
In short, old couch, you made me ache
In several body parts, which still make
Me think we ought to have parted
Long before all these pains started–
But, as it is, you’re moving on,
As we now have new furnishings to sit upon
So, thanks, old couch for all your service,
You’re moving on, please don’t be nervous–
I’m fairly sure that a nest of mice
Will find your interior very nice.