The Armchair And Me Poem by Paul Brookes

Part One
Summoned by sunlight we smile, like we always do,
you get up and make coffee while I do the Sunday morning snooze.
the dogs jump on the bed, the last piece of quiet I'll have for the day.

then awaking to reality the dogs are no longer here, nor are you,
maybe if I believed in heaven you'd all be together there
just waiting by the threshold for me to join you.

looking at the wall, a pale magnolia, thinking this
is a metaphor for my life
there used to be colour when you were here now there is just magnolia.
the dogs brought noise and purpose to my day a reason to live.
now there is just the silence and me sitting, declining into my armchair,
becoming one with its cushions
a pair of old worn relicts waiting to be put in the bin.

outside, the day is slowly succeeded by night?
or maybe it is evening, the world is a series of on/off switches,
from light to dark but with no discernible differences.
life is flowing through me and out if the room.

so continues the weary seconds and stretched minutes falling into interminable days
succeeded others days like leaves falling from trees;
they accelerates, weeks, months, years.

when did I become old I wonder and when did you become just a faded picture?
a memory that may not be right, a little off key but a golden icon nevertheless.

Part Two

there is a sudden awareness, a slow lightening of the load
a gentle thawing of the mind and heart
a reawakening to the day
the sun begins to seep in.
time to redecorate and bring back colour.
there is something to live for after all and there is a renaissance
life it seems is not over, having the armchair reupholstered,
seems there's still a little life for both of us, something worth saving.
here we are with new beginnings and tonight I'm going on a date.