Sitting in Ellen's Office

Sitting in Ellen's office, I find
remnants of her pre-retirement days.
A pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses
tucked askew at the back of a drawer.

Did she think she wouldn't need them?
Or did she have so many
they are like sticks of chewing gum
used and thrown away.

I am a pale imitation - a shadow
sitting behind her desk
looking out the dusty window,
watching clouds and foggy trees.

I look down the endless hallway
and listen to the slap of the staples,
the aluminum ping of a microwave,
the "Firework" ring of a cell phone.

I take a chair out so it
won't feel so crowded.
But in reality, the ghosts of those
who sat here before me
keep the office full.

One of my 30 for 30 - "Poem a Day" for April: Sitting in Ellen's Office Sitting in Ellen's office, I find remnants of her pre-retirement days. A pair of tortise shell reading glasses tucked askew at the back of a drawer. Did she think she wouldn't be reading once she retired? Or did she just have to so many pairs they are like sticks of chewing gum used and thrown away. I am a pale imitation - a shadow sitting behind her desk I see out the dusty window, clouds and foggy trees. I take a chair out of the office so it won't feel so crowded. But in reality, the ghosts of those before me keep the office full.