Knife Work
Whittling away another hour,
thoughts recycled into knife blades,
Forgive them, they but whittle you,
they shape the figure that sits and carves.
The shavings fall, the hour grows thin.
and when the work is done,
there will be no knife,
no reshaped figure,
only a hand -
whittling and writing.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
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