Could you write a poem about a standing desk?
The Standing Desk
 
 
 Two doors down
 Standing in the corner
 Looking out the window 
 Is your desk
 Back turned
 Wailing at all of us
 Wondering why we can���t hear it
 Whispering sometimes with secrets for the room
 
 When the door closes, it is particularly loud 
 Screaming, screaming mad
 Angry and lonely 
 Moaning now for us to find its partner 
 Groaning now for why, why, why
 And only when it hears the occupants in the room questioning and turning to stare is it mollified 
 
 We unplugged it to keep it quiet
 Left it tall and high at the position you liked best
 Chair tucked neatly under
 Gleaming clean and bear, beckoning for the next master 
 And when everyone is busy 
 Meeting our many meetings
 It hums softly (usually that same song you taught it), seemingly content and happy 
 
 People enter, come and go
 And the Observer watches and waits for a pause 
 Wanting to insert something weird and funny
 I glare at it when I come in
 It knows, I know.
 I know, I know! Shhhhhh! 
 ���We���re working on it,��� I say
 It raises a brow at me 
 I roll my eyes at it and shake my head
 ���Not enough!���, it throws at me as I slink out walking backwards 
 
 Searching, I stay out of sight
 Looking for its new companion
 Specs on hand, omissions at the back of my throat
 Someone smart, yet dumb enough
 Someone commanding, yet submissive
 Someone current, yet mature
 Someone good but not too much 
 ���Someone who will stay,��� the desk whispers hopefully 
 
 I grimace and say: 
 ���I���ll take someone tall enough for the desk!���
 
 It taunts and laughs at me
 While the memories flood in 
 And I start to laugh too
 And the desk and I share a grin 
 
 ���Not funny,��� I say
 The desk shrugs and finally stays quiet 
 
 One day, when everyone was gone, I sneak in and stand before it 
 Power it up and press the down button so I can rest my elbows on its smooth surface 
 And I look out the dark window
 In unison, we share a heavy sigh 
 Choked up, I whisper: ���A new person will be here soon and I���ll be gone.
 Watch over everyone, will you?���
 The desk nods quietly, lump in throat 
 
 I take an orange sticker and press it gently underneath as a reminder of its promise 
 And then walk two doors down to add one to my own desk before heading home for the night
 As the elevator takes me down, the desk scans the empty office, takes a deep breath, and stands at the ready, a white knight brave but trembling, and starts humming your song.