That's Chemistry

A poem inspired by the Periodic Table

You’ll find me, periodically, musing on my desk,

A table which is practical and rather picturesque,

I think of it as solid wood which occupies its space

Though scientists inform me that this may not be the case;

They tell me that my writing desk that stands against the wall,

In spite of its appearance isn’t as it seems at all,

It’s made from dancing particles with nothing in between:

C6, H1, O8, N7 and, lastly, P15:

An oscillating, mobile mass, a nebula of sorts,

A vague, amorphous galaxy of specks by all reports,

So small that they’re invisible, intangible as well,

Just atoms with their molecules as far as one can tell. ,

Thus knowing that my desk is in an insubstantial state

I pray that it continues to support a poet’s weight,

Since, hoping that these elements don’t suddenly disperse,

This periodic table’s all I have for writing verse.