……..” The chair “…….
It’s a chair, just a chair,
Deep veined mahogany,
Hessian layered,
And filled with hair.
It’s a bed, just a bed,
A book without a binding,
Silently recanting,
Where once lay a head.
It’s a glass, just a glass
But, my God it’s sacred,
Lips once lingered,
Indelible morass.
It’s a frame, just a frame,
Capturing heaven,
Such youthful abandon,
And filled with your name.
It’s a home, just a home,
That became a building,
That become a shrine,
When all alone.
It’s a chair, just a chair,
Of crafted joints,
With sabered legs,
And skillful debonair.
It’s a chair, just a chair,
Utilitarian,
It sits a corner,
Now you’re not there.
Seamus Ginty