The Chair

He stood for hours
trying to remember
what it was like
to sit comfortably
in the chair,
his favorite chair,
the one near the
fireplace, where
upon the mantle,
her picture stared.
Time had taken her,
as it had before,
but this time,
she would not return to him.
Remnants of their love
now glowed in the embers,
that crackled with each kiss
she had placed on his lips.
Warm they were, if ever dying,
like the heat raised up from the fire,
as the flickering of the flames receded
into the ashes of their lives.