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An Empty Chair
April 29, 2015
She gazed down at the ball of yarn,
She curved her lips downward,
She couldn’t believe he was gone,
She arched forward.
She tried to think on her work,
But all that came to her mind was his smile,
But all that came was the funny way he held his fork,
But all that came was his quirky fashion style.
For she had loved him in tears,
For she had loved him in laughing,
For she had loved him through the years,
For she had loved him in dying.
And it just wasn’t fair,
That all that Death,
Of her lover did spare
Was this empty chair.
© Sofia M., Suffern, NY
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This poem is inspired by the painting Madame Boissiere Knitting by Gustave Caillebotte, which depicts an elderly woman knitting at a table with an empty chair beside her. She wears a frown on her face. I imagined that the empty chair used to belong to her late husband.