The Empty Chair

Strange and totally queer was this Thanksgiving day.

The table was filled with all of the usual delectable fare.

Only you were missing as I sat next to your empty chair.

Others laughed and talked and pretended not to see.

Yet I knew that they were aware that you were not next to me.

No one even mentioned you at all by your name.

I guess they were uncomfortable in that it was not the same.

Gone was your sweet laughter that always filled the room.

Gone was the way your words lifted any lingering gloom.

That was just your way; it was Leah the nature in which you were made.

When I first arrived I went by habit to my usual seat.

I arranged your silver and straightened out the wrinkles in your chair.

Then it hit me; I was alone in a room full of people and you weren’t there.

Happy first Thanksgiving in Heaven my love…

Oh how I missed your touch.

J. Allen Wilson

11/27/2008