Third Row, Second Seat
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Third Row, Second Seat
The empty chair at church has a name.
It changes from time to time,
but remains somewhat if not always,
the same.
My friend "May" and I...
we talked about the lost ones.
Then we traded numbers and addresses.
In case, we too are gone,
too long.
It is not a report or calling,
but a noticed fact.
The chair, we stare,
and compare...
dates,
when we last saw our friend?
The last time we spoke,
friendly words about nothing.
Hugged and prayed together...
with God.
Is she sick or moved?
Is she in trouble?
There is no way to know.
So now,
we sew together,
the loose seams of our net
to save each other,
and be ready to catch,
any that might fall...
any that may find
the map has been misplaced,
the bread crumbs have been eaten,
and the wind has grown still.
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2020
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