Wind and rain howling 
Against the seaside window
You made it safe home

A thorn in my side
Beauty, a double edged sword 
Still I hold you dear 

Old, straight, retired
Young, yellow, and flexible
Try to make ends meet

An old chair standing 
On the street waiting, watching 
For life dancing by 

In the corridor 
Soft rays of light, the pure void
Shades covered in blue

The plaid vest hangs there 
And experiences time
Casting a shadow

What’s he doing there?
A child said when I bent down
Taking the picture

Dancing on the edge 
Of the event horizon 
In bright summer light 

A broken chair lies
In the corner of the room 
Paying attention 

Let‘s become concrete,
In the structure provided:
Where are the poets?