Love…a poem

Chair, Red, Old, Dusty, Room, Urbex

“I don’t think they’re coming back,” he said.

“You keep saying that and I keep telling you they aren’t coming back. Not ever.”

“But why would they leave us behind?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe they changed their decor, maybe we weren’t comfortable any longer.”

“You know that’s not true,” he said.  “We are a beautiful color and very well stuffed.  We are the highest quality chairs and you know it.  Every part of us has been hand crafted for luxury.”

“You do this all the time,” she sighed.  “Why can’t you just enjoy our life together and welcome the birds and animals who come to visit?  The reason they left us doesn’t matter.  They did.  This is what we have now.  It’s okay.  We are still together and somewhat protected from the elements.”

“You’re right.  It’s just that we were made to be sat upon.  If no one sits on us, what is our true purpose?”

“There’s no such thing as a true purpose.  There is no purpose at all except to enjoy life. Nothing leads to anything else, not really.  Our purpose is whatever we say it is.  The only thing that’s real is change.  If there was a true purpose no one, or no thing, could change.  If one’s purpose changes then it wasn’t a true purpose to begin with, unless we have thousands of true purposes.  If we just have one, then we would have to either abandon it, or admit that what we were doing before, wasn’t our true purpose.  We are.  That’s all that matters.  Our purpose is to be.  It doesn’t matter if anyone sits on us.  That won’t change the fact that we are.”

“I can’t believe the woman who sat on you read philosophy while my  guy liked toy trains.  You learned so much more than I did.”

“I’m just saying that you should enjoy what we have and stop thinking about the past.  If you keep living in the past, you’ll miss your life.”

“You’re looking particularly beautiful today,” he said.  “A lovely blush of fabric.  Inviting and beautifully tailored.”

“You are such a romantic,” she sighed.  “I’m so happy we were made at the same time. I think you are stronger than anyone has a right to ask of their chair.  You have kept your person safe and happy for all the years he depended upon you.  I’m sorry you miss them, but we’re happy alone. At least I am.”

“As long as I can stare at you, I can be happy,”  he said.  “Remember how elegant this room once was?”

“I do,” she said, sighed.

“It was elegant because you were in it.”

“I wish I could brush off the debris that settled on you.  I know you like to be clean.”

“It’s nothing.  If I could close the door, I would,” he said, quickly.

“Will you sing to me?” she asked.

And he sang to his love, until the sun dipped behind the horizon and the moon came to light their room.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Love…a poem

  1. Resa says:

    OH… I love this.. how beautiful, Gi!

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