That checkered space

Like calls to like
across the chasm of existence,
and I create a waiting room for you,
here in my heart,
watching as it fills with chairs:
each thought with its precise red vinyl cushion.
I carry each one out but more roll in,
some building nests in unseen corners,
clinging to the walls with thickening webs
and still I wait, remembering:
you came to visit, once,
and stood, just there,
and filled that checkered space with song.
I keep returning, listening for echoes;
for even one bright incandescent note...