John Carter Brown
The empty chair
My eyes draw in the splendour,
There's beauty all around;
The gentle hush - The snowdrops
In both the sky and ground.
The seasonal returning
Of cold and crispy hoar;
The telling, by the hearthside,
Of ancient tales of lore.
The conifers still keeping
Their green, now skimmed with white;
The hibernating hedgehog
In his leafy nest, curled tight.
The children out a' playing,
Happy chatter on their sledge;
It seems a dozen seasons since
The Robin's chicks did fledge.
And still the snow comes trickling down
In mesmerising trails;
Six-sided flakes of frostiness,
Released from cloudy jails.
I sit and ponder all these things,
Then spy the empty chair;
And wish my darling friend was here -
These things, with me, to share.
(Written Jan 2013)
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Comments about this poem (The empty chair by John Carter Brown )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
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