Memories of sunlight and shadow

The sunlight spreads like honey over the table,
poured through the window,
filling in the shadow you used to cast
when you sat in that chair,
that empty chair.

At dinner,
you told us of your day in school,
how in math you did math things
and in dance you danced,
as you sat in that chair
that empty chair.

Your room is so tidy now,
no force
to draw the books and papers onto the floor
to heap the clothes upon the bed
to stack the dirty dishes so precariously
until force majeure returned them to their proper place.

No one else could sit there,
the table too close to the window,
so you gained little privileges
for sitting in that chair,
that empty chair.

Your brother sets the table silently
then cleans up after dinner is finished,
no complaints for the extra task.
I catch him glance every now and then
at your chair
at the empty chair.

Dear God, let me come to your steely gate,
to peer inside and catch a glimpse
to hear again her laugh
even her scolding of her brother.
Only for a moment,
that's all I ask,
and then I'll leave
for I know I can't bring her back,
she is yours now.

But please,
just one chance
to see her by the window
the sunlight through her hair
a corona around her head
her shadow on the table
to see her sitting in that chair
in that empty chair
in that damn empty chair.