My Desk, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

How many have come before her
Wish that she could tell what she knows
Words written upon this altar
Decades of happiness and woes

Always polite is she to me
Though I pound on her in anger
Yelling at her ever briskly
When ideas fail to flower

Listening to my every word
Though the same again and again
And phrases that are quite absurd
Or just chatter ’til don’t know when

Let it be known she is my friend
Bringing comfort until my end

My real desk

As I was searching through images looking for one that says to me “I’d make good poem. There it was, a desk almost like mine. I did of course remove all the clutter before taking this photo.