The Old Red Chair

"If you look real close in the sky you can see,
The silhouette of an angel's face watching you and me"
I lifted my tiny fingertip, etching out a hollow face,
Held, only for a moment, within her loving embrace.

I never knew much about her, just the stories I was told,
But I yearn to feel her warm skin, touch her hair of gold.
Now and again I'll feel her hand on mine while I sleep,
Holding it to her heart as she softly lowers her head to weep.

The kids at school all told me their parents side,
But I never minded them, kept the truth locked deep inside.
His breath was tainted, his eyes blood shot red,
I tried my hardest to ignore him, but stood and watched instead...

Ashes to ashes, she'll slowly fade away.

A man broke in two, tore his heart right from his chest,
Packed his get-away bag, swore to me it was for the best;
A dusty path stretched out before me, empty and bare,
And I turned, to the stories exchanged on the old red chair.

I laughed myself through the nights, cried a time or two,
Reminisced about the stranger that I never really knew,
I never was an artist, but I knew well enough already:
Red blood dries to black, and it is quite a tragedy.

Ashes to ashes, her memory turns to stone.

"You see Baby, some things die, while others last forever,
But I'll promise you now, that you and I will always be together."
A Father's promise, thrown into the pile with all the rest,
Lying somewhere between all the others I've grown to detest.

I hollowed out a life for me at the age of seventeen,
Worked long enough to afford a pack of smokes and some gasoline,
And I took after the only example I was ever expected to meet,
So I ran as fast as I could as soon as I felt the ground beneath my feet.

-Jenna Elphick
March 31, 2008