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The old man sat back in his chair,
Looked like a monument so old
Visions of his past underneath the white hair,
Not even bothered by the cold
Oh dream maker do me a favor,
Take me back to my bright young days
Let me touch and let me savor
All these illusions of my yesterday
The young lad arrives from school at four thirty
Sadly arrives to see his dad
Visions of his future seem so grim and dirty
The evenings mood again is sad
Oh dream maker do me a favor
Take me up to my ripe young age
Let me touch and let me savor
All these illusions my heart can fake
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by groundhog91
The old man sat back in his chair,
Looked like a monument so old
Visions of his past underneath the white hair,
Not even bothered
He sits in that chair, to remember,
for she was the love of his life,
for this was her chair,his beloved,
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by Shawna Blake
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
Thats his chair,
over there.
But he isn't sitting in it.
Not anymore.
Thats his chair,
over there.
Growing dust and fading in,
with
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Poetry: His chair
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