A Pair of WIndsor Chairs

A pair of chairs. Windsor. Simple against the wall,
the lines somehow peaceful despite the truth
that the wood in the backs has been bent
to a stretching point wood was not made for.

Too often that is where beauty comes from,
a tension, a bending to the will of some maker,
someone who is not quite ourself, the taking
of what is natural and making it more.

Even your precious simplicity you love so much,
is not natural. It takes decisions to let go,
to cease the need for more that is part
of who we humans are.

Everything is a trade off. That is one of your mantras.
And the beauty you seek lives in tension
with the life around you, with the natural needs
of a world in need of more

And so now and agan you leave your world.
You travel or daydream of a world of beauty
and simplicity no one else sees or wants,
a simplicity that lives in your eyes and your eyes alone.

About this poem.

I am a minimalist in a maximalist world. 

“Everything is a trade off.” is indeed one of my mantras. Ask my kids.

I have a weakness for Windsor chairs.

I daydream a lot.

From all that, this poem.

Tom