This Table

This dear old kitchen table bears the scars of
All our celebrations
It proudly wears its marks and stains like
An old soldier’s decorations
We take our customary places
Self-appointed, not dictated
And warmly greet familiar faces
In the circle we’ve created
Each time we meet the wrinkles show
The time is passing ever quicker
But, to each other we still look the same
Across the candle’s flicker
Lay one place fewer at the table
And shuffle up the empty spaces
We’ll talk and smile as best we’re able
Try not to count the missing faces
Time is a theif who steals our treasure
Life never gives, it merely lends
So laugh and cry in equal measure
And celebrate that we were friends
The scrubbed and faded grooves have long absorbed
Our foolish indescretions
It’s heard our quarrels, our rapprochement
Our denials and confessions
It’s heard our trials and tribulations
Our triumphs and our glories
If only it could speak you’d hear it tell
A thousand secret stories
It’s brought old enemies together
And will do the same for many another
For when we sit around the table
We are forced to face each-other
Lay one place fewer at the table
And shuffle up the empty spaces
We’ll talk and smile as best we’re able
Try not to count the missing faces
Time is a theif who steals our treasure
Life never gives, it merely lends
So laugh and cry in equal measure
And celebrate that we were friends
So laugh and cry in equal measure
And celebrate that we were friends