Extempore - An Empty Chair Poem by cahen thrips

the old wooden chair on the terrace
hasn't moved since you left it at the
end of last summer; not even north
winds could blow it over nor shift it
more than an imperceptible inch or
two. I still see you sitting there with
your back to me as you watch birds
feeding their young, beside you on
the ground an open book face down
and on the back of your head your
glasses slip slowly to your bare neck.
I never let you see me weep and you
always had a smile for me though we
all knew you were scared. Usually the
chair spends winter in a shed; not this
year because you'll not need it in the
spring and it seems fitting to let it go
the same one-way as you.

February 2023