Nothing feels so empty,
as an empty chair.
Nothing fills the room quite
Like the empty there.

The immense space not occupied,
The break in rows of people.
It serves as much a purpose
As a Monday steeple.

Ceased of being sat in,
It’s now left alone.
A friend now gone to who-knows-where
leaves behind his own.

A wasted space
A gaping hole,
A memory now fleeting.
An endless life
A timeless sorrow:
So goes the empty chair.