Nathanael Miller, 16 Jan. 2017
The chairs remain empty,
Long into the night.
I have a candle burning on the table,
I have some wine in the kitchen
And conversation ready to explore.
The house is warm in the winter dark,
The fire is lit and blankets are at hand
To cover a cold lap or chilly feet.
But still the chairs remain empty
And the candle burns on.
My wealth is here to be shared
As the candle dances happily.
The larder is heavy with food,
A little red teapot is eager on the stove;
Yet still the chairs remain empty.
A visitor all what I hope,
Someone to entertain;
Laughter and conversation
To fill the empty chairs
And warm my chilly heart.
But the chairs remain empty,
And the candle is almost gone.
The winter’s cold is not warmed
By the inclusion of a guest in my home.
So much to share yet I sit alone.
The candle sputters;
The night grows ever longer
And still the chairs remain empty.
No knock upon my door,
No guests in my home.
And now the candle has died.
Its wick is cold and its wax hardens
As the darkened cold comes down
Enveloping my silent heart.
The chairs…the chairs remain empty.
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