I sat in your chair by the window.
I must have thought you'd still be there,
still sitting in your chair.
I felt the worn upholstery,
and touched the coffee stain.
The wood was scratched,
and the stuffing was coming out in
places.
Smiling, I thought how much you'd
loved this old chair.
I remembered the way
you sat each day,
the paper spread around you,
And your tobacco pipe in the corner of
your mouth,
with your steaming mug of coffee next to
you.
I remembered seeing you here every
morning,
rain or shine.
I remembered your old paisley robe,
and the red scarf you wore around your
neck.
I can even see the slippers on your feet.
I remember searching your pockets
for that peppermint always there for me.
I remembered the way you looked over
the top of your glasses,
and the way you always had them
perched upon your nose.
I remembered the hours you'd spent
sitting in that tattered chair,
reading your paper, smoking your pipe,
and sipping hot coffee.
I remembered everything about you.
Especially, the love you gave to me.
|
I can't recall the day you died.
I must have been too young.
I didn't really comprehend
the situation we were in.
Some had tried to eplain to me,
But I was so confused...
But one thing in my memory,
I still can feel today,
was the feeling that I got
when you weren't in your chair
the next morning.
Now I sit here in your chair,
almost pretending that you're there.
And trying to remember every little
thing,
trying to hold on to you...
I remembered thinking 'bout you
everyday,
and looking for you everywhere.
I remembered cleaning up your favorite
chair.
I remembered making coffee for you.
I'd laid your slippers by the chair,
I'd brought the newspaper, too.
I'd even gotten your pipe.
I'd wait and wait,
but you never came.
I even tried calling your name.
But you still never came.
I remembered saying things I really
didn't mean,
and throwing things across the room,
and acting like a child.
And although I was quite young,
it suddenly occurred to me
that you were really gone.
I remembered feeling empty,
(cont'd on page 35)
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