Upstairs

Brown 

Wooden

Vintage. 

The man who held valleys and dried rivers among his face.

Sat down in the rocking chair.

Opened his book. 

The whispers of blessings tickled his ears. 

He twisted a knob,

The world was quiet once again. 

His son could ‘take care of it.’

He thought. 

Raspy, tired, and happy. 

He’s done enough work. 

Let the fate of humanity do the rest.