Blog learning loving music poetry WRITING

isn’t visible

isn't visible

The old woman asked me to take
A seat
As if it wasn’t already occupied

When a person is dying
Pretentious statements
Get a once over
Before being

“Are you sure?” falls away
Because they’re sure of

Surely everyone could
See there were peonies
Already in the chair

To appease her
I placed them on
Her nightstand
Then took a seat

“My mother made that chair and
She loved peonies. You smell
Like my mother,”
She said while smiling at me

I smiled back before
Reaching out and holding
Her hand in silence

She fell asleep

Her husband came in later
To hug me and while
Crying explained that
She hadn’t let anyone or
Anything occupy that chair
In years

Speechless I stood back and
Smiled at him before turning
To replace the peonies
Where I’d found them

But they weren’t there

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