In the room, a chair
Stands in the afternoon sunlight
Waiting for someone to choose her for a seat
Time, wiped and waxed
It’s hard to imagine what the person will wear
Common khaki cloth clothes?
A thin flowing silk skirt?
Stripped flannel dressed pants?
Or coarse, faded jeans?
There is no presentiment or sign
The minute hand strides with long steps
Followed by the hour hand with its smaller steps
Amid slanting shadows, the chair begins to turn and change
Its long, thin legs, strangely grow more slender
In the tightly shut room with a half-open window
Not a soul stirs, all is quiet
Only the chair’s legs seem to lengthen
It’s going to stride out of the room
On go the twisted dreams of the chair
A black shadow suddenly leaps in from outside the window
Lands on the cushion of the chair with a soft click
From the faint rattling purr
The chair understands with surprise
The one she has been waiting for
Is a fond of sleeping, carefree