Couch, oh couch
Nine feet in length
You stand on your dark wooden frame
So silent, so still
Born the same year
As me, 1973
I've grown
And you've changed
But just your complexion
(Slightly less bright
And velvety)
You seduce with your softness
Your springs now loving fingers
Gently cradling all bottoms
Beyond your temptation
You relish your role
For relaxation
As every living thing
Human, dog, or even cat
Has succumbed to your charms
And slept in your bosom
So be proud, oh couch
And listen not to the haters
Who would like to disgard
Your brilliance to the dumpster
Instead, focus on the joy
And the happiness
You have provided all these years
And will for years beyond
For you are my couch
The best couch
The most comfortable couch in the world
The orange couch
seriously....a poem to that couch......Does my sister know?
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