If I were a human,

I would be a septuagenarian.

But I am just a relic,

Full of memories of a clan.

I have been in the corner of the kitchen

At the old family house in Daklan.

Once looked perfect with soft

cushion, colored yellow and brown.

Each time when somebody comes

home or just to visit alone,

Like a seat of throne,

I was there ready to be sat on.

For countless years that so many

people have sat on me,

One of my legs broke one day.

I feared I would be thrown away,

But, alas! My leg was fixed by your father.

Not only that I stood up once more,

But I had a new and soft cushion,

And a new cover, patiently

crocheted by your mother.

Once again, I was happy

To be useful for the family.

Through the years, and moving on,

Each of you have fully grown.

You all had your own families,

Most of you have left home.

Your parents built a new home,

Up in the mountain they own.

They took me there, too,

I was so happy for the two.

Oh! Time flies, it does not tarry.

One becomes old, sick and weary.

Your father has long been gone,

While your mother

Is now an elderly woman.

I, too, have become useless

Left outside amongst the trees.

I bathe in the rain,

Bask under the sun,

And I let the pine breeze

Brush through my surface.

I wonder how I have become,

Only if I were a human.

But I am just a carcass,

In time, I too, shall pass.