my chair.A Poem by Boyd Johnson
I’ve had a terrible time, Trying to rationalize My happiness. I’m not used to this. I think, I’ve almost got it. I saw a table, With 6 seats; 3 occupied, 3 not, and you could see, through a hole in the floor, that there was another table, just below, with 3 seats occupied, and 3 not. All any of them did, Was discuss Their time, On the other side. Their seats, waiting patiently to be refilled. Their friends, always knowing they’d be back. I saw this image, And wanted to paint a picture. So I did. As I watch my own chair, Burn. © 2008 Boyd JohnsonReviews
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3 Reviews Added on May 14, 2008 AuthorBoyd Johnsonthe great and oft forgotten north of nyc. poughkeepsie., NYAbouta freak. an outlaw. a hot piece. -j.m. a hometown boy who loves the hudson, his drink, and his hat. hiding under the train tracks, with a bottle of irish moonshine, toasting to it slipping thro.. more..Writing
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