table - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The wooden table was a rainbow in browns, the kind that brought sweet memories up for air.
The table was warm to touch, its caramel honeyed hues flowing as lacy waves upon a summer beach
The table in its natural beauty was the perfect stage for our eventide meal.
The table was every hue of a pebble beach, perhaps more.
The tabletop was the echo of white sands, the golden grain reflecting the light into the summer kitchen.
The grain of the table flowed as if once it had had a pulse, as if a heart had taken in those sweet brown grains and then sent them on their way. My mother had another way of seeing it, she saw instead those organic radiating frontiers as if they were the leading edge of a wave upon the smoothest of sand. Either way, it's pretty, and when my brain gets to racing I sit myself here so it can become as slow as a forest heartbeat or as rhythmic as waves upon a beach.
The table had been with us all those years, the surface had the face of a beloved old man - as if all those lines were his well earned wrinkles. It was the sort of brown hue that welcomed the eye and invited the hand to touch.
The table rocked ever so softly upon the flag-stone floor, those pillars made of strong brown beams, beams that once held up the roof of the barn. One way or another they'd always been here on this land with us, and before that they were apart of the chattering forest trees.
The table was hardly ever seen in our house, so often it was a sea of our creative messes, merging and spilling in the way that they did. For so long it was four legs beneath that chaotic splendour. Then one day my father cleared it and I saw the surface for the first time in so long. The top had once been something else, something painted so many times before being sanded and varnished... and all those colours were still there in lines, in patches and in freckles within the grain. It was perhaps the most surreal rainbow I'd ever seen, but one made to last even when the sun comes out.