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Two Alone by Toby Franklin Coley

Through the blinds in my office I see a gazebo,
paint worn and cracked on wood that has seen many layers,

layers are like masks. Masks we wear everyday,
to cover the older masks. Alone in the place sits

two chairs, solitary, if two can be called alone. It is rare
that someone comes to sit, in the chairs.

Unused icons of a happier, less busy time,
when play and rest took precedent over work,
over what we call life.

The blinds play tricks on my vision, horizontal
prison bars that mar my path, stop me from leaving,
from sitting in the chairs.

Bio: Toby Franklin Coley is a native of Wilson, North Carolina. He lives and writes in Toledo, Ohio with his wife, Christina, and is teaching and pursuing his doctorate in Rhetoric and Writing at Bowling Green State University. He has no previously published poems at this time. Toby enjoys writing, and composing music on his guitar, yoga, and spending time with his wife.