The Daily Me

The Empty Chair
Amidst the din, the empty chair, lonely and forlorn
Brought memories of another fireside.
Those slippers worn, I've never thrown
The Siamese cat, well patted on his side
Those glasses old, bowbent and strewn
Placed on him in his sweet repose.
Those little idiosyncrasies
A sign of hypertensity,
The foot tap tapping to and fro
In yearning quest to know the world
And leave the life of solituded.

The time has flown, the pain has eased
But still I see upon that chair
Which uproots me from daily chores
The Siamese cat and glasses old
And the foot tap tapping to and fro
And I am left to face this day
With empty lonely chair forlorn
It's fabric frayed from time and stress
And like myself is bereft
Of his sweet and boyish face.

By: Frances Jean Gildersleeve-Beaupre'

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