The Chair

In a house not mine, the owners away,

On a day like any other although all days are different,

I sank as one sometimes does en route

Into the gentle grave gravity of an accidental chair

Whose occupation was to be there,

And as I sank, the precincts of my mind lifted off and fell

Like a tent from the pull of ropes and guys,

Although all ropes are different,

And there was something sat in the chair, I away,

And for five minutes without ceasing,