Gift

Cousins gather neath the table, Gives us space to hear what we're able. Tablecloth hangs down, No one knows we're around. To hear about the baby that was lost, Or the aunt you better not cross. The table becomes a fort, Holding off the herd of shoes. We giggle softly at all the news, Can't believe how much they talk about the blues! Perhaps that's why they have us about, To fend off the news when our cousins are about!