I start at the edge of the woods,

In the bright shiny green chair.

 

But the sun moves,

Its fast shadow cooling my feet and the legs.

 

Cool air rises to take the sun’s place,

Filling its shadow.

 

So I move, dragging my chair,

Holding my phone and Mary’s book.

 

I sit again, read a few pages, then the

The sun moves and again I drag my chair.

 

My spot I choose by the marigolds doesn’t last either and once again

I move.

 

This time to the red chair by the driveway.

My book and phone follow as I know they will.

 

And now, as I sit on the driveway in the red chair,

The sun’s shadow creeps ever closer to my feet and

 

I realize there is nowhere else to go, nowhere to move to,

Nowhere else to be, but it’s alright, an ending of sorts, I guess.

 

I can leave my chair here, empty, on the driveway,

No one will notice, no one will come to move it.

 

I am no longer in anyone’s way.

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