The olde wooden rocker was rustic and worn; no one could remember the year it was born. It rocked with one partner for decades of years but now it was silenced and all were in tears. The faithful old rider had ended her ride and all who stood nearby were silent or cried. The rocker stood empty for one or two years, when something strange happened and filled all with fear. A storm had arisen and hit the old house, and doors were all opened by wind from the South. The wind hit the rocker and it started to move, a back and forth motion, not fast, just real smooth. The storm kept its force for about one full hour, and then left, worn out with almost no power. The house in a short time was brought back to order but one thing remained that is hereby recorded. The rocker kept rocking, and rocking away, and nothing could stop it or stand in its way. Some folks say its rocking right up to this day, but most feel this gossip is merely heresay. But miracles happen and old legends live on, and so will the old rocker long after we’re gone.
majored in journalism at NYU in the 50s; received my masters in business from there and worked for Equitable Life in NY for many years. When retired entered antique business and real estate; retired to Massachusetts and Florida; currently do a lot of volunteer work. Friends forced me into poetry due to much writing I had sent to them over the years. So I joined High On Poems. the end, warren