Outside our house, we have some empty chairs,
once occupied by loved ones, no longer with us.
Each evening, when the sun is sinking to the ground
and the sky is questioning itself,
we step out and sit there.
Talk to ourselves,
our voices loud.
Trying to cover the morbid quietness,
trying to cover the absence.
And day by day,
without knowing it,
we take their place.
We grow more hands and legs and hearts,
we speak more voices and see more colors,
we sleep more dreams and swim more seas.
And year by year,
as the chairs are more,
we are also so much more than when we started.
Guernsey, February 2011