19h • General discussion
The Empty Chair
I wrote this after my wife passed away
There it sits, in shadows cast,
Silent keeper of the past,
Worn and weary, wood and thread,
Holding all the words unsaid.
Still it waits, both proud and bare,
Memories etched in empty air,
Once a throne of laughter bright,
Now just echoes through the night.
I see you there, though you are gone,
Your presence lingered far too long,
Stories told and secrets shared,
Now just whispers, unprepared.
But life moved on, like rivers bend,
And fate, it took my dearest friend.
Left behind this vacant space,
A hollow shape where love took place.
And yet I sit and talk to you,
Pretending like I used to do,
As if your warmth still fills the air,
And you’re just resting in that chair.
So here I’ll stay, until I find
The strength to leave it all behind,
But for now, it’s where I dare
To dream
you’re here, in that empty chair.
By Jason Strickland
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The Empty Chair
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