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.