MY 3-LEGGED TABLE
I am such a creature of comfort, it's painful, Living with familiar things, worn and faithful, My three-legged table, broken but by my side, New ones call, but they can't replace our history. Repairing it is a dream denied, But I find comfort in its lopsided grace, You might think I'm a hoarder, but I only keep what I need, Each possession chosen with care, a piece of my soul. In their presence, I find rare solace, Discarding them would leave a gap, I cling to my flawed table; it's mine, In its imperfection, I find love. So here I stay, with my three-legged table, A creature of comfort in a rushed world, In its fragile balance, I cherish the past, And the memories it holds.