The empty armchair ...

I'm in my parents' house, sitting opposite my dad's empty armchair - he's now in a taxi, on his way to Saint Mary's Hospital - he didn't want me to go with him - 

He kept on asking what time the taxi would come, and if he'd rung for one - 

I think about that armchair - when my dad's been absorbed by the hospital world, it will still be here - 

His feathery weight will then be another memory - 

I'll imagine he's opening the front door of frosted glass -

I'll hear his voice - I'll feel the touch of his slim hands - 

14.00

August 4 2014

Havant