The Kitchen Table Poem by Lureen Kithen

Brown, wooden, squeaky, old
The scene is always the same.
A mess before dinner, spotless after.
Chairs, plates, forks, food,
So many dinners passed this way.
They are countless to say the least.
Laughter, cheering, talking, working,
A challenge or two, the projects quite a few.
Family chats, homework done.
Papers, flowers, fruits, coffee
This disassembled array is a friend.
This wonderful disaster is the Kitchen Table.