Comfort

            
             Velour balancing on stout wooden legs.
             Adopted from a residence that smelled like cookies.
             Better known to me as Grandma Morton's house.
             It is superior to me, and huskier around the sides.
             Its legs are built like a gymnasts", strong and self-righteous.
             Its casing is a sugary pink, .
             My bony fingers glide against its smoothness.
             Limp and weaker bodies melt into the warm consoling fabric.
             Like caramel alongside chocolate.
             It is slightly worn like a mended heart from an old lover.
             A friend you can forever go to, tell your secrets.
             Victorian velour chair.