the chair

i stood alone
my hand upon the partly opened door
and looked back into the room
where i had spent my time

the old reclining chair
with worn and darkened headrest
caught the corner of my eye
and when i looked and thought about
the image that i saw
i gradually became aware
i was not there...

there were no friends
on other seats
no little cat upon the floor
no wife beloved to hold my hand
and bid me on my way

the sun still shone thru window glass
and everywhere outside the wind disturbed the leaves
the rain still fell and wet the ground
the sparrows winterized their lives and still survived
and garlic grew again from underneath the earth

nothing stops there is no end
extinct volcanoes still erupt
and ice and ages of a glacial cold
will come and go and come again

for fifty thousand years from now
when all tomorrows are still new
and yesterdays have long been aged away
nothing i have writ or said
will thus remain
for anyone to read
and think about
and to reflect perhaps
if maybe what i said is not untrue