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Our Couch

by Naomi Larson

 

I see our couch sitting there

with my dad lying upon it.  My guess would be

he is reading some kind of mystery.  Somehow

that couch makes me feel warm and grateful.

It is an old couch.  It belonged to my great-grandmother.  

There are lots of memories stuffed into that couch.

Some bad memories, some good.  I always wonder

where and how that couch was made.  Its like a couple

lifetimes have been sitting there watching me.