Refurbished

I liked the space empty.

Full of freedom and air.

Until one day you showed me

this room could be more.

With function and purpose and balance and flair.

Keep it simple, I thought, just start with a chair.

With haste it was done and decided:

clean lines, classic beauty, comfort, and ease.

It fits, we agree, so easy and spacious.

Two chairs in this space, yet still feeling free.

That room filled with sunshine had all that I wanted.

Until, I unexpectedly found myself ready for more.

I slowed to a stop, doubled back, and admired

an old desk that was solid, lovely, and worn.

Against a backdrop of mansions yet holding its own.

Unlike the chair, this next piece was heavy.

It hurt when I tried to move it alone.

So, I asked, and you came,

carried its weight on your shoulders,

placing it gently in the now crowded room.

Let’s make it beautiful together, I hopefully offered.

Strip down the exterior as I’d done in my thoughts.

I don’t want to do that, you reluctantly tell me, but

offer to find the right tools for the job.

To both our surprise, you brought me a saw.

Setting aside old ideas of perfection,

I decide to step back, take my time with this piece.

You smile and point out that despite expectations

the desk will still hold up my pen and my paper.

Bearing the weight of my thoughts and my dreams.