I have a fine china table
that belonged to my Great-Grandmother.
It came to my family in the 1600's
when they made their fortune in the china trade.
My mother wrenched it out of her sisters hands
and delivered it to me after my Great-Grandmother died.
It had been promised to me as
I am her namesake and her mirror.
One day my Mother used my table as a stepping stool
during one of my moves.
She stood on my table,
and it cracked right down the middle
with a sickening pop.
I tried to fix it but they gummed the surface all up.
Now a coaster is stuck on it's finish.
It is still strong though, and
holds all my music
as I play the piano every day
and write all my songs
and tell all my stories,
next to my fine china table.