We Stopped Mocking Regret

The chair fell apart.
We left it outside
All fall, winter, spring.

We liked it outside.
We were out of room
For any more chairs.

It was an old chair.
When it broke, it went.
A good use of it

We thought afterwards.
Only when we found
An old photograph

Of the sweet, young chair
As it looked, polished
And unstained once

Upon a gone time
In an all gone house,
Us curled up in it. . .