In My Chair

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In My Chair

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As I sit in my chair,

I can recall the past-

Past only a few months,

When my eyes were cast

Upon your mother asleep,

Burdened yet with life

Which heaved and rose

Within her-my wife.

Now, that burden turned

Into the blossomed girl

Who innocently lies upon

My lap midst a hazy world.

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You don't know me yet,

Little Gretchen, do you?

You hear me but only as a

Sound from images you view.

You must sense and feel

A security in these arms

Of mine and your mother's

Knowing no fears, no harms.

Someday in this chair,

I'll recall the past again-

Past for several years,

When my eyes will begin

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To look at a young woman

Upset over some boy;

Or giggling at the mention

Of him with happy joy.

And still later in this chair,

When you come to visit,

I'll see a mother-to-be

In discomfort trying to sit

No longer on her father's lap,

But next to her loving mate,

Who someday in his own chair,

Will know a similar fate.

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And still, a few months later,

I'll hold in my grasp

A grandchild of innocence.

Its hand round my finger clasp.

Yes, I'm dreaming ahead,

For now it's hard to believe

That someday your tiny head

A wedding veil will receive.

I can recall the near past and

Look to tomorrow somewhere

As you grow up and I old,

As I sit here in my chair.

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_Michael W. Ashley

_July 6, 1974

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(This poem was written when my daughter was 2 years old. She is going to use it in her Wedding Program. Thirty-one years later, it has been prophetic. The little baby girl who once lay in my lap is a woman now and is getting married. She has grown up and I have grown older. As I sit in my chair.)

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