The Room of Chairs

Tell me why you weep I heard
from the quiet space
turning turning where
I see you sometimes in despair
so said the room

a stop and then around again
there a voice a song I longed
to see all mixed up rocking course
within the quiet a discourse
unwept was I in curious glean
to find that dust can talk I clean

now shine is on the arm of rocker
the fragrance of orange a sign perhaps
and I see the smooth of years not harm
and feel the hold of rocking arms

delighted with the wood and grain
I listen lost in past some pain
where girl dark-curled leaned into pale
of how to trust when cushion failed
to comfort stripped the bones now matted
of fabric thin and holes not tatted

Tell me tell me why you laugh I heard
from other side of room
I swung around in much delight the room
fell suddenly into sight
with sound like children ocean tuned
and surf of love swept out the gloom

Then perfume became the air
where the ancient set of time
rocked with me and mother mine
back and forth in wooden boat of chair
her arms like ropes around me there

Tell me why you weep I heard
from the quiet space
turning turning where
I see you sometimes in despair
so said the room