There was a rocking chair
at the top of the stair
that saw genius the likes of which
no books had known.

The arms shiny
from a frustrated hand
ideas and solutions
with gaps in between.

Its spindles were infused
with the cherrywood smoke
of many a late night fire.

Pondering poetry –
sweet release from his daily science
a peace that could not be found in the laboratory
buzzing with assistants and onlookers.