The Empty Chair

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The Empty Chair

In memory of my daddy

 

Holidays approach

I swallow my tears

Paste on my cheers

Still I know I’ll see

That empty chair

 

Standing near the shelf

I pull your picture down

When no one is watching

For you aren’t in

That empty chair

 

I close my eyes

Revel in the memories

Music from your fingers

No music will come from

That empty chair

 

I hold a shirt close

Breathing in remnants

Of Old Spice and sweat

Smells are fading from

That empty chair

 

I long for that deep voice

Wise words rolling

From that tongue with ease

You’d tell me to let go of

That empty chair

 

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About Denise Callaway

I started writing in the 5th grade and have folders of bits and pieces dating back nearly that far. Wonderful teachers encouraged me along the way, from allowing me to take my spelling word sentences and write a story instead to posting pictures for a free write on a regular basis. On those pictures, I often look for some obscure detail, sometimes imagined off the picture to develop into the story idea. As I grew into my teenage years, I continued to write and added poetry to my list. Throughout college and during my adult life, I've continued writing: short stories, poetry, and even a few articles for Yahoo! Voices before they shut down that venue. I do have longer works in process and I hope to one day unveil them to you all. Until that day comes, I hope you enjoy these tasty tidbits I delight in sharing with you.

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