The slow crawl of unkempt grasses
there is so much absurdity
to a chair that never accepts
that it is a toppled chair,
to see, it is the rest of the world
who must be titled
it’s easy to ignore the beauty of discarded chairs
the spaces they once occupied have forgotten them,
oh, it is not what we throw away,
but where is it thrown,
did its function fade with its color,
did its color fade in the withdraw of love.
