My Table – My Life

 My table – filling my kitchen – large enough

for a holiday family meal yet

leaving ample room for movement around

it.  My table, piled high with clutter.  Bills –

depression.  Paid receipts – relief.  Coupons

that I might use – hope.  Recipes to try

at Thanksgiving dinner – anticipations.

Pictures from friends – warmth.  Letters and cards

to be treasured.  Scotch tape, stapler, and rubber

bands for when I do try to organize.

Ibuprofen for when the mountain is too

staggering and the muscles ache.  A deck of cards

to keep my hands occupied while my mind roams.

Crumbs that have become stale like some of my

notes I’ve never used.  Copies of some poems

to give friends or anyone who takes a fancy to them.

My table – a strong backbone to offer support

until I get the burst of energy to clean

up the scene, to file away for safe keeping

the treasures that must be sorted from the junk

mail and once more see the fabric beneath it all.

My table – My life.