The Chair Made With Sorrow

A poem about a carpenter building a beautiful chair. The very last beauty around him. His surroundings he once knew had disappeared.

Illustration By Dan J

A beautiful handcrafted chair,
fit for a queen and her castle,
Should the last beauty in one’s life be sold?
The old man sat himself down with hands on his lap.

He worked day and night through a dark existence,
vibrant colour,
noise from loved ones,
the smell from the home cooked meals,
everything got lost with time.

The slow beats of willpower,
an attempt to hold dark experiences at bay,
a heart was overflowing with all dangers of life,
hunger also remained,
there was nothing but a can of beans.

He had once learn something important,
avoid the idle mind,
a push forward with brittle and old bones,
little good does it do today,
an old hand can barely grasp its hammer.