rockingchair

we're all born onto a rocking chair,
upon an elevated knoll,
laid before a rustic path,
as minutes, hours tick and toll,

time and force, it pushes us,
along the lands secreting life
deced along the rustic path
are tears and laughter, smile and strife,


and as we're pushed allong the path,
we know, we live, we clutch the seasons,
as its lesons make us who we are,
we love, we learn, its every reason,

were all born onto a rockingchair,
with lovely sweet receptive lives,
we slowly age on the rustic path,
on rockingchair we smile and die,