The empty chair
The empty chair is unimpressed
its vacant care bereft, un-blessed,
with threadbare arms and scuffed footrest
in lonely sitting room, undressed.
It squats in rays of slatted light
unknowing of the day or night,
no to and fro of padding feet
it's just a chair, so incomplete.
The chair is nothing now he's gone
just something he once sat upon,
where soon there'll be an empty space
for something else to take its place.