My own kitchen table,
Made of smooth, brown wood.
My own kitchen table,
Memories from my childhood.

My whole family sat together.
We talk, we laugh, we pray.
My whole family sat together
At the beginning and end of the day.

But the table’s ever changing;
Its wood darkens like the skies.
Almost my whole family sat together,
Wiping tears from our eyes.

But we live and we recover.
Soon we are laughing once again.
Still, my eyes drift to that empty chair,
Every now and then.

People leave and people change
And the family drifts apart,
But the kitchen table stays
Just as it was like at the start.

One more person gone,
One more who doesn’t care.
One more person gone,
And one more empty chair.

I think of all the people,
All the people I have known.
Only one last chair is taken,
I sit at the kitchen table
Alone.