No. 22 - This Table

It was a four-legged table

As most tables are

With one of its stilts

Falling apart

Though someone had “fixed” it

And given their best

The crack was still bulging

Threatening a mess

But as the first light dawned

And the world yet yawned

The piece for which it longed

He was there holding

Wielding a tape for good measure

And tools for good pleasure

The man made stable

What could not stand

Dear carpenter,

Come fix my table

As only you can.