Teaspoons?

Teaspoons?

Outside the leaves are falling

The nights roll in

Before the day is done

There are pictures on the sideboard

Blues skies with sunny smiles

A drawer full of used batteries

There is a wooden box,

Marquetry inlay adorning the lid,

Packed full of essential oils

Rarely used

A film of dust takes the shine off

A silver tray

With candles artfully placed

Barely burned

A set of leather-bound books,

The complete works of Shakespeare,

Sitting next to a biography of Dylan

On a shelf below the television,

The modern unit is brushed ash

Subtly muted

More than a match

For the light cream leather sofas

With oversized cushions

A cotton throw casually draped

Across the back

Which in truth

Took fifteen minutes to arrange

In a display of

Apparent spontaneity

There is always a method to

Creative disarray

Cupboards full of glassware

Fairly clean

Those used more frequently have recently

Been polished

A self-closing drawer

Full of tableware and cutlery

Knives and forks with several

Styles of silver spoon

There are cheese knives

Still in their boxes

Coffee cups and tea towels

Never used

Decorative glass containers

Full of mixed nuts and granola

Green sculpted pots,

One was bought in Malta,

The other piece in Bath,

After a morning at the Spa,

Form attractive tableaus

Against matt off-white walls

Paintings hang,

Orchids grow

There is a pointlessness to order

There are so many teaspoons

Why are there still

So many teaspoons

When so few of them are used.