photo #8300150

The Table I Still Set I lay the cloth with faded thread, A hint of blue, a touch of red. The pattern’s worn, the corners frayed - But oh, the stories that it’s made. I fold the napkins, place the plate, Each one a seat, a quiet wait. The silver’s dull, the china’s cracked, But every piece holds memories stacked. The candlesticks are brass, not gold, A bit too bent, a bit too old. Yet when the flames begin to glow, The years fall off like melting snow. A pot of stew, the biscuits rise, I see my mother’s knowing eyes. I hear her hum a dinner tune That wrapped our hearts each afternoon. My grandkids ask, “Why all the fuss?” “Why set the table just for us?” I smile and say, “Because it’s love - The kind that time is made up of.” They laugh, they eat, they pass the bread, Not knowing all the words unsaid. But in this sacred, simple art, They feel the pulse of this old heart. So yes, I set the table still- With grace, with care, with quiet will. For though the world may rush and spin, This table brings the past back in. #sharing #Grandmalove