Dear Desk
Dear Desk
What do you do on Sundays?
Do you miss me?
Do you miss the busy clatter of our class?
Do you wish I was there
scooting in, scooting out,
my knees tickling you
under your chin?
Or do you spend your Sundays listening
to the humming night-sounds
of school,
remembering the years
you lived in the woods
a friend of sky
and birds?
A poem of address to the desk. What would you want to say to your desk?
© Elizabeth Steinglass, all rights reserved, 2015
I love the line “my knees tickling you under your chin.” Nice work on this.
“my knees tickling you/under your chin?” <3
I, too, was struck by the lines:
“my knees tickling you
under your chin”
So good! =)