THE WHITE TABLE

Memories perch side by side with coloured streaks on my white dining table,

memories of conversations chewed and sipped on angled white chairs.

Teasing reminder of friendly dinners and lunches;

reflections of countless family meals,

reminiscent of meals sometimes nibbled alone over fiction and non-fiction

each memory clings to the lacy grey table cloth,

forming a concealed tower of souvenirs.  

Streaks of my daughter's curved enthusiasm for artwork,

canvases spread on the table capturing diverse moods, 

etchings of a deceased grandpa captured fondly;

or sketch of a friend's turmoil spilled by angry strokes.

Scars of peeping chipped wood  a testimony to 

gaping sentiment of my progeny.

The pen marks on white rexine chairs cruise blue to black,

patterns of different students each year drawing 

Economics diagrams or calculating profit margins.

The white table creates an invisible album,

Each time I flip a page, a bygone flavour of emotions emanate.