THE EMPTY CHAIR
the locket fell lost in the dirt it was not my intention to ruffle feathers
the hens are a flutter the bear comes from the wood disturbs the peace
the order of the yard grannie hid in the rafters for a week no one knew she survived
all the others were eaten chicken dinner on the ground the women in white
the moss hung from the trees the men played games the sun grew hot
end of summer you ask will it come again?
before you know it a hundred years passed the sun still shining
reflecting off the water each year becomes another memory can we write them down
give them away who will keep what is passed you were here
laughing telling jokes made the trip several times
first he went and then you followed your empty chair waits your return
August 2, 2017
Note: This is for my friend, Mary Kelly.