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The White Chair
The Dollar is up and the TSX is down,
in this busy day northern town,
I walk my ravine route, quiet as a mute,
brook background on,
listening, a bird song.
Across the path it sat,
with white vinyl straps,
I sat upon it's lap.
A white outdoor chair,
under the pines, without a care.
Where it came from nobody knew?
it just appeared right, right out of the blue.
It sat under tall, towering pines,
passing people, passing times.
We sat there together,
in all kinds of weather.