But a Chair

It was but a chair.
A Lazy Boy, stacked with comfort and pillows,
Stained from years of horseplay, from hide-and-go-seek to midnight sardines,
Dilapidated from forty winks a many.

It was but a chair.
Always filled with its proper owner,
Always surrounded by the boisterous laughter of aunts, the sarcastic wit of uncles, and
Always encompassed by love.

It was but a chair.
But that place of rest is empty.
Still it is surrounded by children and grandchildren, whose eyes swell with pain and tears, yet
Still it is encompassed with love.

It was but a chair.
Now it will forever stand as the chair.
The chair that held him,
Embraced his weak body as he melted into a slumber.

It was but a chair.
But, it isn't.