Coffee Table.
What a useful gift you have become. You hold my work items, my school items, my food and drink. You hold memories from a life of brokenness and togetherness. You used to be a place for feet of mothers, and fathers, and pets alike. Your four legs supported the weight of the heaviness in the air. Now it is light and you show not a care.
I see the grout on the tile that lines you start to build up with residue. I watch as the cat and dog play over you. You have become a prop in the life of a child, you have become a chair, a desk, and a table too.
When next to a cousin much larger in stature, you look upon with eyes loving in nature. You enjoy the way you complement each other, one next to another, creating a place for more support and aesthetic pleasure.
If we could speak, I would tell you to remember your greatness, you are much more than a table for beverages. You support the families that reside here. The appreciation for your structure will never fade as long as you remain here.
