A Desk

An old Black Walnut desk

With one badly braced leg

A thin and crackled spindle

Fragile as the shell of an egg

 

Varnish once highlighted its grain

Now faded and worn through

Only slivers and cracks decorate

An open drawer, in faded hue

 

The chair, one companion

Showing the age they both share

And a half-read novel, open

In this place, with this pair

 

But no eyes are looking

No words are now seen

The unused reading glasses

Are done relaying literacy’s cuisine

 

The bookcase leaning

One paneled, glass door ajar

Where magic moments wait in vain

Neath an ancient cigar scar     

 

Dust, the desk’s companion

Together, quiet and still

No one seeks the lone reading glasses

By the book, on the desk, by the cracked window sill

 

 

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is brilliant poetry! Your rhyming is strong & unique & interesting. I was picturing the scene vividly as your description unfolds. Many clever lines, including: "relaying literacy’s cuisine" . . . this poem could be about an actual object, but it could also be about some part of ourselves that we've neglected, say, people who grow older & their eyesight does not allow for easy reading, or any number of possibilities! I finished my book (a little over 2 months & 300 printed pages), so prepare to be pestered again more regularly (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Dave Brown]

Yes, this is much like the reflection I increasingly get from the mirror
Congrats on your monumental achievement. an impressive accomplishment.
I don't think I have written a total of that many words in my entire life
I will try and hone my re-pestering skills, feeble as they always were, in an effort to keep from suffering excesses of mental aguish, potentially brought about by your highly hone commentary 'cuisine'
Congrats again-you are "The Man"
BG