My Little Old Desk

My battered old desk may have seen better times, The grain of its wood is like fine laughter lines. One leg may be shorter, due to old age,

But a folded old coaster keeps it in place.

The state of its sheen may make others moan, With scuff marks left by my children, now grown, Scratches by cats wanting food or attention, I remember them all with much love and affection.

Newer versions in shops, from what I can glean, Are brighter and may need less effort to clean. Yet, should you ask me to honestly choose,

It’s my battered old desk I would much rather use.