The coach sat alone in the cool, dusty room
Left behind when its owners moved on
The years went by and its color slowly faded
Dust settling like a sheet on its surface
Then one day a lamp was switched on
Light filled the room and chased away the dark
Two new people occupied the house
Where the couch sat, as quiet as a mouse
One person was a man, the other his spouse
They uncovered the coach and brushed off the dust
They sewed up his rips and tears with disgust
"Why would its owner leave this couch," they discussed
"It's in good shape," they fussed and they fussed
I'm sure if the couch could smile, it would
It had finally found a good home with the Woods
They treated it like family, always cleaning up their spills
And covered it in the winter so it would not get the chills
Now the couch isn't alone in the cool, dusty room
It is used and respected by the Woods, I presume