Come To My Table

Come to my table
and sit awhile
and I will tell you tales
of years gone by,
attended by loves and those
who held magic in their hands.

We have supped
and laughed and cried some,
but mostly told the tales
that love spun out of gold.
It was a rich time;
not the coin of the day
but the values in the hearts
of those who dined.

It was magic
that threaded us together
through the years to find us
all at the same place, entwined.
But the love and the magic
may have been one and the same.

Do you think?

10 responses to “Come To My Table”

  1. That reminds me of all the talks we have at your table! Alway fun and enlightening, plus the food isn’t bad either 🙂

  2. Jessie, And you always add so much to our table! A more welcome member we could not find.

  3. Found your blog via Maria Wulf’s – thanks for your words and images. I am especially enamored of the phrase “kissing the morning” and your poem “The Whole World Needs a Mother” as my mom is in hospice care.

  4. If I close my eyes I can see this scene, a sunny kitchen with curtains fluttering in the warm breeze. The scent of coffee with a generous plate of coffee cake in the center of the table. Close enough for all to reach. And the stories! Thank you Veronica, for the words that brought me this vision of magic and love!

  5. Ardene, Invisible though the care may be, your mom is being supported kindly in her journey. As you also are being supported. Love has many wings. Welcome to the upper floor.

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