The Wooden Chair

Its constant stare
That leaves the open chance
That once there was something there
The missing piece
Searching for a possibility
It reminds one of its intentions
But haunts them of its regrets
Its silence is daunting
As if it needs recognition
How could one forget
The rhythm that it plays
A melodic salute to the trials of time
Its aching affliction for sudden affection
Its constant urge to always be available
Has loss its drive to be reliable
To be here in the presence
Due to its loss of attraction
Searching for stability
To reign again
When will the chance come?
To be saluted
And not shamed for its purpose
The value it once had
Has been depleted
Maybe one day it can feel love
The flair could resort
And its days of loneliness
Can once again be ignored