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Chair of Death
On a cool afternoon for tea,
She sat in that chair,
Humming for our silence;
Her bones quivering the instrumentals
Within the ruffles of the skin.
When her tune came to an end,
She took time to turn our way.
Not because she felt obliged
That she had all the time in the world,
But because her youth had shredded
To make her nothing but one
Who hoped for time.
For the painstaking moments passed
And we locked eyes.
She fought her raging wrinkles to smile
And nod my way.
Perhaps she tried too hard
To say a decent goodbye.
One would think he keeps it
Because he has to.
We'd sit on the floor first
Before we touch that chair.
For it encases you,
Tightens its weight upon you
And hums so sweetly between the ear and soul,
The sounds of a sour, unsaid farewell.
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