The Green Sofa

I hate that old thing, still sitting in the living room. It sags in the middle; every day the cushions sink lower. The striped green fabric, so scratchy, so scratchy, is holed. All the color is faded, like it was youthful long ago, or maybe never. Useful not for sitting, the sofa bears the weight of my junk. But I still leave it there. I glance at it everyday and think, "What an ugly piece of furniture!" Buttons amiss, but I miss my grandmother. And I love that the green sofa originally was my grandmother's.