Rough Edges

I found a piece of plywood, sun-bleached and rough,

it once served a purpose, though now it’s quite tough.

A table of laughter during summer's warm glow,

where stories were shared, the seeds we would sow.

Its splintered veneer holds the weight of those days,

a reminder of gatherings, the warmth of our ways.

In its grain, I see laughter, the awkward and bold,

it whispers of friendships, of stories retold.