Which Chair Is Mine?


Across the hazy silent room,
Draped in curtains black and smooth,
A place to gather on this night,
The time to think, the time to soothe
To let emotions take their flight.

So many chairs covered in dust,
Too many years untouched by light,
Wait for the time, when fate unfolds
To choose which chair is mine tonight;
Inside my soul is harsh and cold.

Shall it be the chair of love or hate,
Or the one of times past and times of hope,
Perhaps the chair dabbed in happy hues
Of gold or red or muted taupe,
Or times so sad, it's covered blue?

Which chair is mine this bleak night,
A time not chosen or lost road taken
Would the chair be tall or short again?
Which chair can heal a life forsaken
Or the chair bristling with seething pain?

To choose just one would break my soul,
But choosing two might be alright
Or maybe four could work as well,
As time spins its vortex through my life,
Swirling like a crest on top of the swell.








Poetry by Morpheus
Read 511 times
Written on 2007-04-29 at 04:58

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