Occasional Table

On re-invention and fun

Occasional Table

 

A small table left to founder in the garage

Stands in poor light. Ignored

The pitted surfaces accumulate dust

Spiders trails. Filaments that catch light

And lend a desultory romance to the loss

Of occasional usefulness

Whatever purpose those four feet enjoyed

Has been lost to a casual amnesia

But now I see opportunity

Texture. Form. Transition

A languishing beauty that simpers

With an essential dignity awaiting restoration

I have the fingers, the vision

Special effects and enthusiasm

To re-invigorate the very sap

Those four legs in forced exile conceal

Arise, utilitarian object

Let the present unmask your hidden talents

And re-take your bright place

In my impetuous future

Together we shall

Experience hilarity.

Author's Note

I am entirely selfish in my subject matter, style and delivery. Why ever not?