The Empty Chair
Near the fireplace stands the empty chair,
Untouched for five years now since that winter,
Christmas Eve what a day to pass over to the next world,
The dreams of children and grandchildren dashed.
Now the old armchair stands empty in vain hope,
Dust on the rails and slowly building upon the fabric,
Grandma's chair it was and always will be,
A shrine to her memory and a throne for her spirit.
The empty chair an epitaph to a life still missed,
Life comes and goes but what do we leave behind,
Family if we are lucky to remember us in the future,
Objects like a well-worn armchair and fading photographs.
The empty chair every home has had one at some time,
An empty space in our hearts and by the fireplace,
Decades of wear and tear until it's bedded in just right,
Now no more wear and tear for this chair that's now a shrine.
The empty chair sitting forlornly in grief,
Christmases by the fireside just not the same now,
A family still mourning after your passing each Christmas,
An empty armchair used just by your spirit.
By Christopher Tye
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem