Her Unoccupied Chair
written by: Achingliu Kamei
The chair gathered dust quickly, it congregated in the corners,
In the deepest recesses of the mind, heavy as the drapes,
Untouched, un-visited, difficult to reach to dust,
The heavy drapes the sunbeam could not penetrate,
A long silent cold night, her forgotten chair in her living room,
Her ivy plants waiting for their water, missing the soft gentle touch,
A half note still hung in the air, refusing to drop, suspended in the stillness,
A song stopped midway; sound of her footfalls trapped, snagged,
On the shiny rugged wooden floorboards, memories caught in the cobwebs,
Thickening in the recesses, in the nook and crannies of the mind
Her home, just an address in the street, passers-by curious, wondering,
Death’s domain, smell of neglect permeates, spreading far and wide.
The little bluebird touched down on her porch one day, in search of beautiful souls,
such as her, who left her chair unoccupied.
- Her Unoccupied Chair - July 13, 2021
