the four legs of iron, my leg beside it in a cast
propped up along the gray couch, beside the table of heavy wood
a deep dark rich oak, or something of the sort
littered with remnants of a coffee and biscuits to be cleaned, maybe I should

the four sides of the rectangular slab, carved like the molding of my wall
and matching leaves of dusted copper to hold each brother close
even closer were you, sitting on the couch too, hand outstretched to catch a mug from its fall
espresso hair and butter eyes, my break propped up now on your lap

that same table has grown with us, and now hosts five
margaret and annabel side by side, baby rowan sprawled asleep
I smile to you, you return it with a tongue stuck out creating a chorus of giggles
beside the coffee lies crayons and markers, bits of a puzzle, how it all fits is a feat

the sand man has finally arrived,with purple cap and loose grin, and put the girls to bed
unwinding from the day, you and I finally alone
the couch is suddenly much bigger, the covers still the color of lead
and the space between us much smaller, with our feet tangled upon the table

who is Mark, you asked last week, I guess you should get the door
only Annabel is on the couch, I'm setting the table with some fruit and cheese,
maybe a nice bottle of cabernet too, stemware of thin glass
you sit beside me, mark beside her, to do this all over again, at ease

Im on the phone with Margaret, her contractions are coming close
Bill's in Connecticut, so we better drive over quick, you fetch the keys
the first three times for us were tough, but I remember smiles the most
this fourth one isn't on me, but the excitement is enough to shroud that

the table again is cluttered, with a bottle, an oatmeal raisin, and a tablet toy
Caleb is bouncing on the couch, landing on your head
brings back memories of our restless nights, spent around this same table
I squeeze your hand, you hold it tight, and thats enough said

I squeeze your hand and you can barely squeeze back, I don't know what to say
my wedding vows repeat, except I don't remember the end
I tell you about the days back, the nights we spent on this same couch, I beg you to stay
The IV sits on the table, so does the family picture we took last year, wood worn down

I'm sitting on the couch, its now the same color as my eyes,I see your face through the glass
do you remember when we told the kids not to stand on the table, and you go ahead and lie down
I miss you, just as much as I miss every moment spent here, I didn't go to the mass
I stayed at home, near you, breathing silently on my own, not alone

The throne you're in is almost as dark as the table its sits on
The copper key rests on the table beside you, its almost as heavy as my heart
my tears rest on the sliver of the window pane to your soul, your body beneath it
same wood that brought us together is now sending you away, but I won't let it keep us apart