The destiny to come
While it was on production lines--
Our family had begun.
We brought it home when number two
Would soon be making way;
With little thought of all the loving
Marks that would invade.
My kitchen table sits a quiet
Life moving at the speed of light--
An often awkward dance.
If only we could hear the tales
Of markers, forks, and glue--
They've left their unique signature,
With various depths and hues.
The memories we have made around
This soothing piece of wood
Have now become such priceless traits
Of early parenthood.