My Comfy, Comfy, Couch.

It's a comfy, comfy couch.
Not the couch from the Big Blue Couch.
But it's a comfy, comfy couch.
It has seen laughter, it has seen tears, it has seen joy, and it has seen fears.
It has heard many, many stories over the years.
Stories from small children, teenagers and young adult souls.
Old folks, young folks, grandparents and babies.

People have sat upon it, jumped upon it, played upon it, and slept upon it.

Oh the stories that are held by each broken thread.
The saggy old pillows that held so many a head.
Babies, children, adults and little puppy dogs.
Oh the stories in the springs that go pop, pop, and squeak. 
If only they could think, share and speak.
The stories are too many, too precious, too great.
So instead of replacing it, it got a remake.
The pillows refluffed, the breaks restitched.
And now it's covered in colours so rich.
Colours as rich as each memory.
Each story, each step, that watched us all grow.
Are now covered with a colourful, delightful, comfy throw.
The pillows have been slipped into hues of gold, treasuring every memory that they hold.

The laughter, the tears, the joys, the fears.

So if you have shared this couch with me, know that you are cherished for the memory you did leave.