It's a chair,

just a chair

on four legs

standing there.

 

Facing out,

turned away

been empty now

more than a day.

 

The cleaner

fumigates all trace,

of he who filled

its cushioned space.

 

As indentations

slowly fade,

the invoice settled

the debts all paid.

 

Will the trees outside

miss his stare

when someone else

sits in his chair?