the birch desk

i measure the old desk.

the width

and depth,

the height in preparation

for the new desk.

the old one is marred

with scratches and cup

stains.

chips, and gouges.

the drawers pull

open,

but it's a struggle to

get them open

and closed again.

i never thought i'd

get rid of this desk,

faux wood, laminated,

but heavy

sturdy, the color of birch.

someone held

a flashlight

as we put it together

one night.

but after

twenty-five years,

of sitting here, typing.

doing bills,

making calls i realize

that it's time to go.

there's

always a moment

about many things

in life,

when you say, it's time.

it's overdue.