Stool

I remember how you

always loved little stools,

they would follow you home

like stray dogs.

I bought one yesterday

at the second-hand store,

a rectangular wooden stool

spray-painted light gray,

almost white

The gray of the sky

when the sun is trying

to break through the clouds,

The gray of the flecks in your

enormous eyes

A ghost stool for you to perch on

in case you feel like stopping by

and hanging out

for a little while