You see her sitting in the chair,
daydreaming, staring into thin air.
You wonder what she sees,
with her hands neatly folded on her knees.
You watch her for a while,
notice a girlish smile, see her eyes brighten then dim.
You know she's thinking of him.
Her husband long gone.
You see her tilt her head as if in conversation,
what is she thinking of now?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm sitting again in the chair.
With nothing to do but wait and stare.
He'll be along shortly to talk to me,
we'll have a good natter, about nothing that matters.
We'll remember the war, when we were young,
when we had fun, when we danced and walked,
and made daisy chains in the sun.
We made love by the moon, then, all over too soon.
I've waited a long time here, and while he comes to visit,
he's always young, wearing his uniform, and I am old,
and forgotten in a chair.

You appeal to
my naked soul.

You don't have to read what I write, dear friend.