This was written for the man who loved our family as his own, and who died two days before my father died.
One Chair Over
One chair overEmpty and alone
Where he sat
And we talked
Long ago.
Worn and torn
But sturdy and vacant,
It guards the door
To yesterday
And today.
That place where
He sat and thought,
Looked and smiled
While living dreams
And life's drama.
One chair over,
So silent and gray,
One chair over,
Closer and closer
Every day...
5/05/05
Poetry by Morpheus
Read 1093 times
Written on 2006-01-02 at 17:10
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