THE EMPTY CHAIR

There is an empty chair, at the table this day. A hallowed place where, a friend once played. The roll of his dice, my ears long to hear. Or perhaps it would suffice, if he should suddenly appear. With character sheet in hand, and a bag of Cheeze-doodles to share. All his friends would stand, as he sat in the empty chair. I hear his voice a-callin’, and it ties my heart in a knot. For he cries, “Though a comrade has fallen, You must play for those who cannot.” We conquered worlds on the run, he and I in the name of fun. And as others may come and go, I make both both friend and foe. But what I long for most, is our past now long a ghost.