I sat in this chair for no more than a day,
yet it felt more like from October to May.
The winter came early and refused to go,
I begged you to spare me but you could not even reply with a single "No."
Those dimples you once cared to love,
only one remains,
the other flew away like a dove
being released from its restraints.
The smile you brought just by your presence,
decided to drift,
no longer feeling any pleasance,
no more a "kick" or "swift".
I sat in this chair for no more than a day,
yet it felt more like October to May.
I sat in this very chair,
long enough to see the change in the air.
I sat in that very chair for far too long,
because you are not where you belong.
You died that very day,
which felt more like October to May.
*- l.c.g.