It was Helen’s mother’s favourite chair
A lady whom Tim never met
He could not sadly picture her
Her tragic end haunts Helen yet.
Joan therefore thought it would be nice
To embroider both the seat and back
The measurements were quite precise
She laboured many hours each night.
A myriad Aussie flowers she chose
Such as cotton bush, wild pea and gums
Bell-shaped correas, desert rose
And wattles - those golden flowering ones.
Amid the mass of flora strewn
Two frogmouth owls hold pride of place
Recalling Tasmanian honeymoon
They give the chair a brand new face.
(c) Poet in the Woods 2014