The Table

Sat, 01/25/2014 - 00:57 -- tcalvo

It was there, always there

In the corner stood that table,

The table of joy and sadness.

The table had always been there. 

From the first time you came home, 

To the last time you sat on it. 

From the time you had a party, 

To the time you broke mother's vase. 

That table held everything. 

It held your joy, your sorrow and everything in between. 

Where you put hot chocolate and cookies for me. 

The table where you left books that you never read. 

The table you hit when you were mad, 

The table you would hide under so you wouldn't be found. 

Yes, that table, was once there. 

Now where is that table you ask? 

It is in the truck.

It is packed and ready to leave. 

It is packed and ready  to move. 

It is packed along with your sorrow and joy, 

Along with your anger and loneliness, 

Along with the broken vase, 

Along with the cookie plate and hot chocolate mug, 

Along with the books you never read, 

Along with the times you were never found,

Along with the noise of your parties,

Along with the punches and scratches.

The table that stood in the corner, 

Insignificant to everyone, 

But containing something still, 

Is packed and ready to go, 

Ready to move on and leave, 

Shouldn't you be too?


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