The folding chair, that at Christmas, sits proudly at the end of the table.
The folding chair, that when used, always seems a tad unstable.
The folding chair is put away, in storage or under the stairs.
The folding chair is there for us and our memories, it shares.
But now that folding chair, has lost a regular guest,
It seems the folding chair has more time to spend in rest.
I look upon the chair, stood up slim against the wall.
And cry a little tear knowing your not using it at all.
So let's remember the chairs that at some point we've all sat on,
And we'll always have the memories of the people been and gone.
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Author:
Aimee C Kay (
Offline) - Published: January 13th, 2024 06:39
- Comment from author about the poem: Written following the death of my Nannan on 6th Jan 2024.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 6
- User favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet.
Offline)
Comments3
I understood this piece very well - an habitually used chair can retain something of the essence of its erstwhile occupant for those who knew them.
Absolutely, I'm glad the message is clear. Thank you for your comment.
Fantastic metaphor. Great work.
Thank you so much
My condolences on your Nannan. 🫂
Thank you
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