This poem is dedicated to SUSAN MESSMER, who gifted me with the title of the poem and encouraged me to write it!
* * * * * * * *
The rug lay still upon the floor
No one could ask for more
Years and years it drank up the spill
Family and friends wishing it no ill
Once beautiful and soft
Now an occasional deadbeat moth
Remnants of candyland dotted its frills
Kool-aid and pop that Sara spilled
Artist tints of color that Lara shared
Annie and her fingernail polish with such care
Elliott’s cigarette ashes laying bare
Adorned with their Dad’s long silver hair
Baby Formula from all three
Grandkids next contributed free
Juice, cereal and gummy bears
All so wonderfully, joyfully shared
Coffee from Momma and Poppa did fall
How about that carpenter’s glue on top of it all?
Think of all the footsteps that this rug endured
Absorption of conversation assured
Grandparents, sisters and brothers, and friends
Twenty-five years this rug did lend
All this exuberant life and more
All absorbed by this carpet on the floor
This is a great poem, I thought of this too late but it would have been cool to cut out a small segment of the rug and mount it in a frame labeled “the past is not prolog, it is but carpet”….
Make that “prologue”
I *love* this, Jane!
This is a winner.
Wow…the secrets a rug can hold!