The Rocking Chair

So often I'd gaze upon it,
Bemused by it's magic,
A sort of spell that it held over me,
As a small child I would stare,
And await the day I could be there,
Once I was old enough,
I was allowed on it,
With my grandmothers arms around me,
We shared much that evening,
Laughed at jokes,
And cried at sad songs,
And cuddled at the scary,
The rocker still holds dreams,
Abitions and freedom,
But no requiem for my lost soul,
Alas I am afraid to ever go back,
Even if I am still bemused and under it spell,
A child I was, and a child I am,
But in the end, it was hers and hers alone