The Chair was old and torn
from years of use.
It had seen generations of family
and friends, leaving it with rips
in the battered armrests
and crooked reclining.
The upholstery was
tired and sagged,
yet the Chair remained
together,
watching time move past,
leaving it with more flaws
to wear as trophies
of the memories it had seen.

Now the Chair sits empty.
Its ripped arms and wounded back
is left untouched by unspoken agreement.
It was her chair--
no one feels that they can
fill the space that she left.

So while the house is full of
laughter and dozens of booming voices,
the chair remains vacant
as eyes drift
to avoid seeing the scars.