The Mighty Viking

In each man’s heart and seldom shared

some passion burns and flares

in mine when silence takes me there

doth creak the rocking chairs

there’s nothing there of power

nor bold display of might

in fact the humble cane and wood

seem fragile, weak, and light

the symphony of squeaks and groans

syncopate with creaks of bones

yet still reverberate the tones

of laughing youth, and lover’s moans

the wood is etched, yet hid from view

with loving tools, and from that grew

a place for love to be so true…

a place to sit and be with you

In August’s sun, or April rain

we sit upon the supple cane

and touching binds our love in gain

in sickness, health, in joy or pain

there harks upon the heavens fair

the angel’s glorious aires

but sweeter still, without compare

doth creak the rocking chairs!