Great-Grandma's Table
They sit around the table
and a few will shed a tear
Thinking about the kinfolk
who are no longer here.
The photos on the mantle
are fading quickly with time,
Just like all the memories
which become so hard to find.
The youth have become restless
as they are close to full grown;
Soon they'll be out in the world
finding places of their own.
For that the elders worry,
at the table now and then,
Because no one wants to say
if they will come back again.
There are nicks and cuts and dents
in the table top that's worn;
Its hosted funeral dinners,
held the food for babies born.
A leg or two can wobble,
its old feet can shrink or swell,
But if this table could talk
so much hist'ry would it tell.
And now it's there on its own
as the house's shell is gone;
The paint is cracked and faded,
its legs won't hold it for long.
Sadly, though, the end is near
for the hour's growing late;
There's no one left to return
to retrieve if from its fate.
Copyright © Daniel Larson | Year Posted 2024
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