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.