The Table

If oak has a spirit then this table should
The beating heart of the household flow
The times it has witnessed over the years
Seeing the joy and hearing the woes

I remember a den in that wooden frame
The table-cloth walls of our secret house
Puzzled parents calling our names
Keeping as silent as a mouse

Swinging our legs, sat grinning on top
Mum shouting angrily "get down from there !"
Squeals of laughter as we jumped and dropped
Skidding down the hallway and up the stairs

And the rainy days when we had to stay in
The farm animals and tractors are sweet memories
The drops on the window as we sat colouring in
Furious that Mum wanted it all cleared for tea

Dad spread his newspaper, lost deep in thought
His grumbles and grunts at daily events
The shopping was plonked, the things we'd brought
The slow steady build up of scratches and dents

The turkey at Christmas, was laid centre stage
The trimmings and crackers were passed and pulled
The cakes and the jelly, the tantrums and rage
Silly jokes and Dad pretending to be fooled

Relatives staying and hours flying by
"Move round please - can you all fit in?"
Laughing so much with tears in our eyes
Playing the board games and having to win

And not to forget when adventures were made
Excited chatter about what was to come
The maps and the books for our holidays
Leaving the home for the beach and the sun

But the table saw days that were better forgot
The solemn days fretting over what was to be done
Heads were in hands, elbows resting on top
Those were sad days and weren't much fun

So much has passed in the blink of an eye
The steadfast table in the eye of the storm
Never quite noticed as the years went by
Devotion to duty and service the norm

But today is different as it's come to an end
The house clearers coldly come in and assess
A last touch as I would to an old dear friend
But to them some old firewood just like the rest