4 of 82

Write now Article Tools

The leather is worn where it once was new,
A grand old chair that makes me think of you.
Though you are gone, your seat remains,
It's been there for us through trials and pains.
Grandpa's chair! We would all cry,
And race one another for the lap of this guy.
There were plenty of children, yet room aplenty,
For Grandfather's lap never was empty.
Tales of glory, pirate filled ships,

Stories of giants brought smiles to our lips.

That old black chair still sits today.
In the very same place, in the very same way.
It is lacking something, never to be replaced,
Grandfather's heart, and his friendly face.
He's been gone now for over four years,
Yet in that chair, him we still feel.
Twenty grandkids, he called us democrats,
Moments, and memories we'll never get back.
Grandfather, why have you left us so?
With your empty chair, and sad empty souls.

The stool is there, where you rested your feet.
Where at one time I could not reach,
I am bigger now, and my feet do lay,
In the spot that yours had done in those days.
The stories you've told us, we still recall,
To newer children, some big and some small.
Your booming voice, they'll never know,
Nor will they understand; where did you go?
Inside of our hearts, grandpa, you are there,
Especially whenever we sit in your chair.

~RIP Grandpa Gene~

Learn more about this author, Shawna Blake.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: His chair?
We want to hear your view. Write now!