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Solid

This table feels so solid,
The pen and paper, too.
Ink flows in lines and squiggles,
Does this make sense to you?

I set a book upon this desk,
As I so often do.
Never once remembering,
Appearances just might not be true.

Far away! So far away!
Molecules spin real fast,
Revolving about their day,
Never ceasing their tireless task.

The desk, it never collapses,
And paper stays that way.
As I sit tightly in my chair,
And “spin” my time away!

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