Occasional Table

Occasional Table

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.

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