by Kelly Steier

Created on: December 26, 2009

His Chair

In the corner of the room between the two window shades

in its beige velvet glory

the gold-leaf chair sits in my mind, now empty and alone

yet bearing an age-old story

of my gentle blue-eyed  hero

who won my heart in so many ways,

and lived a quiet and mellow life

and spent so many final days

in that glorious chair that sat by the window

of noon-day sun that shone upon his aged shoulders and gave him a glow

of valor and courage to battle the demons of age and disease

of a man that I love more than he would ever know.

And his chair became her chair after he was gone

to his eternal rest,

as she sat there and wept silent tears,

and remained stoic about his loss through

all the many endless years.

She loved him with a sense of pride

for a man who never left her heart

though she sat there alone on cold afternoons

and knew they were only temporarily apart.

And than she too left the space,

and moved on to a regulated place

leaving this earth with pain too brutal for even her to bear

but not before uttering, I leave you my soul and his old beige chair. 

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