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.