The Old Sofa

Covered in old leather,
Fabric and lace.
The sofa was floating,
In the emptiness of space.

How it came to be there,
No one could be sure.
But in someone's living room,
It resides no more.

It's old leather surface,
Is warmed by the Sun.
The cob webs inside it,
Had long been unspun.

No more hands would rest,
On its sumptuous arm.
No more would it comfort,
And keep bodies safe from harm.

Old memories of lovers,
Are locked in its frame.
Of wooing and foreplay,
Whilst playing love's sweet game.

No more old coins,
Slip between cover and back.
Even it's old springs,
Are getting quite slack.

It's still out there floating,
In orbit round Earth.
No longer used by anyone,
It's lost all its worth.

And if it hits a satellite,
Who'll really care,
If some obscure TV stations,
Suddenly go off air!?

J R A Gigney (14 February 2012)

Dedicated to my friends James & JC <3


• All poems written by J R A Gigney unless stated.