Living Room Coffee Table

The coffee table in my living room tells a story.

When I came to your house I was made of wood

I was highly polished and had ornate brass fittings

I came from a very nice store with a reputation for quality

I was treated with deference and the children were told to be careful

 

Now ... much has changed for both of us 

A stub of a pencil lies across a stack of artwork

An single serving box of Cherrios lays empty and abandoned

Sunglasses sit sideways from a day or two ago - it's ranining today

Coffee cups still warm from conversations but without coasters

Smudges from socked feet proped on my corners

Remotes to tv, cable box and ceiling fan all at different angles

Blackberry, iphones, and laptop

A ziplock of game catridges and recharge cords are juxtaposed

Against a Biology book and homework sheets

A Crate & Barrel catalogue and a magazine -- both current but fleeting

 

Underneath a Monopoly box with torn corners and spilling pieces

Shoes and sandals from everyone piled or placed ... despite "the rules"

A dog toy obscured temporarily from view, Algebra, an older mag

 

Don't even think of opening my little drawer ...

Clutter from a hundred "tidy ups" that served their purpose I suppose

 

Every scuff and scratch and smudge and stain a reminder

That this is in fact a "living" room

I'm no longer simply made of wood and this is no longer simply a house

Thanks for letting me live in your home

Author's Note

We finished talking and decided we needed to capture the moment before yet another tidy up.