POSSIBILITY
An empty chair sits beneath an old oak tree,
sitting with the memories of pixies
dancing in the yard;
children playing tag or catch
under the watchful eye
of a gnome now turned to stone
and resting in the nearby grass.
In the tree above
lie years of visions and notions,
angels climbing among the branches,
higher and higher
until they leapt with joy
and flew away on a smile of the wind.
The lawn parties and picnics
through the years left glimpses
of brownies peeping,
though none could hear
the ancient, whispered wisdom
that came with open eyes and daydreams.
Today there is only an empty chair,
abandoned by the siren song of imagination,
the days when we were young
and anything was possible.
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