The Sideboard

It is a high, carved sideboard made of oak.

The dark old wood, like old folks, seems kind;

Its drawers are open, and its odours soak

The darkness with the scent of strong old wine.

Its drawers are full, a final resting place

For scented, yellowed linens, scraps of clothes

Foe wives or children, worn and faded bows,

Grandmothers' collars made of figured lace;

There you will find old medals, locks of grey

Or yellow hair, and portraits, and a dried bouquet

Whose perfume mingles with the smell of fruit.

- O sideboard of old, you know a great deal more

And could tell us your tales, yet you stand mute

As we slowly open your old dark door.