Library Table

Wood creaking like an ancient door closing
more patterns than King Tut’s sarcophagus.
The paper and ash that were on this table
are as historic as a WWII bullet.
Wait, get your cameras ready
Mr. President is here and he looks snazzy.
Climbing on a ladder,
going to the tallest shelf
he gets a book and back down he comes.
On my table, Yes!
Please, please let’s all hope he loves to read.
Smooth as silk, sleek as slate
you can sit near the fire on a cold winter day.
Now it’s in the dining room
in a house in Australia
not as cool as the biggest library in the world
but it still means something to me.
You can tell it’s famous because it’s
as scratched and as old as a WWI pistol.
It was born from a tree and its home was
the forest but now it’s sleeping on a carpet.