She is empty, silent, alone.
Now the holes in the chairs become
Apparent, uncovered, revealed.
Now no papers cover the tabletops;
Frantic engravings of hopes and dreams
Are exposed.
Merely a shell – four walls
Though she has character:
unchallengable knowledge
Of the lives of those
Who have confided within her.
Unshockable eyes
Speechless mouth.
Memories are all she has of us
Because we are going – leaving
But not forgotten
Her hide has been pierced by flying darts
But her pride does not bleed
Adorned with golden studs
Glistening in the bare bulb light
And her own plant life
Which grows unaware
In the ceramic “planters”
Drapped at random around her.
No more does the music box
Thunder out the latest hits
No more do the lockers
Slam shut with rage
All is calm tranquil silent
Bare walls
Clean floor
Vacant chairs
Clear tables
Locked windows
Empty sink
Silent room
Eternal soul