Ode To My Kitcken Table
Kitchen table, you have helped me to grow,
As school projects have been produced.
And Thanksgiving dinners are prepared with love,
With spilled milk whose fat is reduced.
The abuse you endure, it is almost unfair
That you will never be
Much more than merely a piece of furniture
With four tethered legs originating from a tree.
Your mahogany finish creates a gleaming shine.
For everyone that sits
Upon every place setting that is set for each person
Around the table, the whole family fits.
One might find it quite odd and strange
To be writing a poem to you.
Just know that I appreciate you more than you know
As we put down food for people to chew.
You smell of the residue of last night’s chicken
As it was mixed with stuffing and love.
We say Grace for everything we are grateful to have
From God’s feast from up above.
There’s scratches and bumps from each baby that is born
Right up from top to bottom.
Though arguments occurred each night and each day
Around you, every time you solved them.
As we wash your top, the ending product does shine
And the matching chairs are stable.
You sit there, emotionless, yet full of memories;
While I perform an ode to you, oh table.
