A Couch Along the Wayside
written by: Mark Tulin
@Crow_writer
I’m tired
My feet are raw and swollen,
but I am fortunate to find
a discarded couch
along the wayside—
a momentary respite
It is a sign of good luck,
the sofa by the curb,
to take a comfortable nap
on its old, worn upholstery
Stained on both arms,
a wobbly right leg,
bulging at the seams—
but the sofa suits my needs,
contains hope for me
It wears the dreams
of strangers who rested here—
made love on its soft cushions,
talked about private things
into the wee hours of the night
It is a godsend for a wayward traveler—
a faded piece of furniture,
a momentary pleasure,
unexpected joy
For I am poor and deprived
In such common treasures,
I find much pleasure.
Mark Tulin is a retired therapist from California. Mark's books include Magical Yogis, Awkward Grace, The Asthmatic Kid and Other Stories, Junkyard Souls, Rain on Cabrillo, and Uncommon Love Poems. He's featured in Cafe Lit Magazine, Still Point Journal, The Opiate, The Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, Amethyst Review, Vita Brevis Press, White Enso, WryTimes, and Red Wolf Editions. He is a Pushcart nominee and a Best of Drabble.
Latest posts by Mark Tulin (see all)
- Like Kudzu Vines - May 22, 2025
- I Am The Sky - February 15, 2025
- In the Dark and in the Light - October 7, 2024
