table grain
worn to
soft smooth flannel
under many hands
bleached, bleached
to opaque memories
of tree

stories held within
each cell
birds at nest
leaves in flight
each year
slow deaths
new lifes

now repository
of tableware
keeper of daily cares
slab of timber
dressed and washed
bleached, bleached
still somewhere within
the memories stir
of breeze and rain
the touch of feather and fur

tea ring stained,
and portwine blurred
babies teeth marks
gnawed into wood...

taken from place to place
granfa's table, time for grace
grace and memory
clear the table time for tea

do I remember these things clearly
or is this just an ingrained fantasy