The empty chair, a silent judge, My own echo, a whispered nudge. The world outside, a vibrant hum, While I stand frozen, feeling numb. A chasm wide, a lonely plain, Where sunbeams falter, and doubts remain. But in the hush, a fragile plea, A hope that someone else might see. A gentle hand, a spoken name, Can melt the ice and feed the flame. For in this vast and crowded space, We're not alone, though time may race. A shared glance, a knowing nod, A bridge built over the lonely sod.
poem
The empty chair, a silent judge,…
1 min read
The empty chair, a silent judge, — My own echo, a whispered nudge.
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