Empty Chairs

It's a poem I wrote for a friend missing his father. And how he could pass his father's teachings down to his children.

Empty Chairs

 

 

Those lonely empty chairs,

When family goes missing,

Endeared altering emotion,

To begin painfully kicking.

 

That you’re no longer here,

When I need your opinion,

These holidays seem barren,

Is the quandary I am given.

 

If you could only glimpse,

The distance I did mature.

Did I equal your teachings,

You’ve instilled to endure?

 

You have enriched us how,

To best coax out good life,

With lovable kindred care,

Without intrusion of strife.

 

The times round our bonfire,

When we sang to your guitar.

Are you watching us wanting,

To sing your melody memoir?

 

Looking down as if to smile,

We sense each and every day,

Reminds us you are sending,

Some blessings your own way.

 

Hinting pain laid tears of joy,

Of your designing I’m feeling,

How we’d affirm a loved life,

Was yours, so very appealing.

 

A piece of you carries inside,

That won’t ever vanish away,

Embeds our mourning souls,

Liken debt we’d gladly repay.

 

I’ll miss, but will not be sad,

Though you went full circle,

I’ll pass you down with pride,

Then we’ll jump pains hurtle.

 

 

Jan-7-2010 Quilled_Penman©Glen King