Have you ever noticed that a solitary chair seems to have a personality all its own?
This one is regally posing for his portrait. He doesn't need props to feel comfortable. No side table with flowers to feel complete, not a single pillow. He is stoic and confident all by himself.
It doesn't bother him a bit that he's becoming a tad threadbare on top or that his seat is a little saggy. Unlike most of us, he wears his age proudly -a badge of honor. To be called "antique" is the ultimate boon.
He is charming and knows how to work a room, lending his star quality to the design whilst ever-willing to play the supporting role when duty calls:
All the prodigious posteriors at all those seven-course dinner parties!
All the children who have launched off to infinity and beyond!
All those times he graciously subbed in as the lazy-man's ladder...
...These are the trials and tribulations of chairhood he endures with nary a complaint to be heard. (Save for the slightest strain of a spring now and then.)
Chair, you are a good friend. Stalwart and true.
Would that I might learn humanity from you. :)
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