Poetry Thursday

  

Once again, Angel Sammys and Teddys Pawetaton have provided us with a photo for Poetry Thursday.

This is not about the photo per se

But about my Daddy’s family, the Gays

And something that happened on Thanksgiving night

After which no one was right

Grampa had his old desk in the basement

And Daddy’s little desk needed a replacement

The desk downstairs was huge and heavy

It weighed as much as the motor in a Chevy

Against all good reason

Or perhaps the food had caused them to experience the silly season

On Thanksgiving night, they decided to move the desk

And the entire day, they did wreck

They tipped it over.

And when they pushed it up the cellar stairs, they thought they were in Clover

But on the way to the second floor

An impediment: A frame that had been used to hold a door. 

The desk was stuck by an inch on each side

But Grampa was a man of great pride

“All we have to do is tip it,” he said

“But, it wont fit,” his son pled

Grandpa yelled, “Tip it to the right.”

But the legs hit the wall, which were too tight

Grandpa yelled, “Tip it to the left!”

“It won’t fit!” my Dad yelled bereft.

And that is where they stayed for more than an hour

My Dad was holding the desk at the top, running out of power

His Dad yelled to tip it this way and that

Ignoring his son, who, if he let go, would see his Dad go splat

There to witness were Daddy’s mom, sister and Nana

Sister took the latter home when she said, “this place is bananas.”

She returned after dropping Nana off. 

ButI couldn’t go upstairs to bed being blocked by two humans and a desk in a standoff.

For the next 20 minutes, his family begged Grampy to stop

While he yelled at my Daddy to tip it from the top

Finally, after many threats from his wife, he did relent

And back in the basement, the desk was sent.

Physically and emotionally spent

Daddy wanted to go to bed and scream into his pillow to vent

When on the way, his Dad caught him in a clinch

And made it worse by saying no man wants to lose by an inch

This poem comes with a postscript

A week later, Daddy, in the cellar, took the desk and made it flip

And that is when he noticed the top was screwed on

And by the time Grampy got home from work in the cellar, the desk was gone

He went upstairs and saw it in his son’s room

And said, “you had help,” which he did assume

But Daddy sat at the desk and didn’t make a sound

He thought, “Maybe someday I will tell him,” but that day never came round