Empty Chairs and Empty Tables

Summer.

Crowded airports, crowded swimming pools,

crowded rollercoasters’ lines.

But empty schools.

Midnight.

Crowded night clubs, crowded bars,

Times Square crowded.

But empty parks.

War.

Crowded battle fields, crowded hospitals,

crowded refugee camps.

But empty streets.

Empty tables at that empty restaurant,

where they used to meet.

Empty chairs at that empty table,

where they used to sit.

Empty chairs because they aren’t there.

And they will never be again.

Alone in this world, now I am, no more friends.

They’re all dead.