There is a desk in my bedroom that wasn't there before.
Before, there was a crib.
But the crib's moved into the room next door, now one of a pair.
In it's place we put a chair against the wall.
Nobody sat there, only bags or boxes in need of a place to rest their feet;)
Originally, we had plans to donate the desk. Or to throw it away.
But when push-came-to-shove my husband stared at the desk long and hard.
Then he suggested we move the desk into our room.
He thought I might like a place to write, a small spot that's all my own.
After he tipped and leaned the desk into our bedroom, he secured each piece with his drill.
When he finished he said to the desk, "This is where the magic happens."
And I am so grateful for the desk.
But I am more grateful for my sweet husband who sees all of me.
