Chandelier

My parents had a chandelier When I was growing up, Above the table in the room Where company would sup. Its crystal doodads dangled down And sparkled in the light, Creating quite a festive mood When it was lit at night. But cleaning it was quite a chore And had to be entrusted To someone up on tiptoe, On a stepstool, to be dusted. Plus once a year or so, I guess, Each droplet got a bath, Which adds to lots of hours of work, If you just do the math. I always found that chandelier Too gaudy for my taste, A little bit pretentious For the home where it was based. Yet when I'm at a venue With a glitzy chandelier, I envision my old dining room, My mem'ry crystal clear.