Chandelier

My parents had a chandelier
When I was growing up,
Above the table in the room
Where company would sup.

Its crystal doodads dangled down
And sparkled in the light,
Creating quite a festive mood
When it was lit at night.

But cleaning it was quite a chore
And had to be entrusted
To someone up on tiptoe,
On a stepstool, to be dusted.

Plus once a year or so, I guess,
Each droplet got a bath,
Which adds to lots of hours of work
If you just do the math.

I always found that chandelier
Too gaudy for my taste,
A little bit pretentious
For the home where it was based.

Yet when I'm at a venue
With a glitzy chandelier,
I envision my old dining room,
My mem'ry crystal clear.