The Pink Table

I had a little table

the colour of magnolia petals.

Silently through the years

it lent its ceramic-tiled surface

to tea parties and colouring fests;

action figures played on its grooved top

and cats slept there.

.

Soft pink like marshmallows or

powder puffs, it sat for a time in my

garden where it smiled up

at the astonishing blossoms of the tree

that sheltered it.

.

Tall glasses of sangria and lemonade

left rings on its welcoming top;

a beer after a days work,

coffee in the morning.

Books and pencils rested there,

an ashtray a crossword a cup.

.

A quiet little table -

handcrafted by an artist -

around which friends gathered

and children played,

or where

a solitary soul could contemplate

stars or sky.

.

A little artists’ table

that might whisper some enchanting

history if you were to listen.