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Rated: · Poetry · Family · #1784480
Grandma's Table
Chestnut hue, quarantined
beneath a dusty dew.
Wood lines,
matching tired scratches.
Lifelines of generations passed.
This milled and rounded form,
balanced on gnarled carvings.
A quondam resting place for
many an elbow.
One-time surrounded by coffee
cups, and Sunday roast.

Darkened stains
a timeline, to family
secrets shared.
Once an heirloom,
long ago, Grandma’s
timbered treasure.
This beloved,
a matriarch of sorts.
Now resting in her basement crypt,
amongst the junk filled boxes.
© Copyright 2011 Lyla Arthurs (lubbielu at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1784480