An Opening

The armchair I wanted
sits outside on the grass.
The chair I made a space for,
the one I’ve not-so-patiently waited for.
It isn’t coming to my living room,
after all.
It’s on its way to storage,
with other extras from upstairs
unwanted by the tenant who is new.
It matches my set,
I measured where to place it.
but it isn’t arriving
after all.

Perched on the grass
next to empty dresser drawers,
it sits bereft,
bewildered as the barren drawers.
Because I made a space for it,
now I have room,
room to remember the love
who also left an empty stretch.
Today I decide to experience
whatever is here. And up it rises,
the sorrow I hid.
And oh! The happiness it covered.
Suddenly my space is overflowing.

©Susa Silvermarie 2021

 

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