A Seat by the Lantern

Heading back from the lane before the chill settled in, I slipped through the garden gate and climbed up the porch steps. Sitting right beside an unlit copper lantern on the deck was an old woven wicker chair, its thick cotton cushion plump and inviting. I reached up, caught the woven edge with both hands, and hauled myself onto the seat. The fabric had a soft, familiar give beneath my boots. Right beside me, someone had tucked a clean metal pocket watch into the crease of the cushion. I leaned my back against the tufted weave, stretched my legs out, and let the steady, rhythmic ticking lull the night to a quiet halt. Good honest rest at the end of a long roam.