The table
would have loved to know
It had
company.
When on it the
reader sat with a book
Read for
hours, leaned on it with an inward look,
The rows of
emotions that came through the words
The table
thought it was the reader’s world.
It would
have loved to know
It had company.
When the
writer stormed into the pages
Hands
shivered to deliver the cages,
Felt a
myriad of things untold
The table thought it touched
the heart warm and cold.
It would
have loved to know
It had
company.
When they
sat and ate on it
Foods flew
in they loved and laughed
Or fought for
truth when they bluffed,
Cleaned and
cleared in heat and snow
The world
outside played symphony.
It’s lying
now in a locked up room
With no one there,
none to broom
No one reads
no one writes
No one eats,
loves or fights
To let it
think it was a knight.
The gloom of
cloud cleared away,
When it thought
of the floor and the wall,
Plastic pains
had drained to say,
It felt the stable
silent call.
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