More Than Just Useful
There, the wooden beam stood
A conceptional use of wood
A burnished dark brown colored stain
Embellished the natural grain
Bracing the ceiling from the floor
Another piece our oaken door
Was this the use god meant you for
Aside shading hill, mead and moor
And blushing with the colours of autumn and spring
Scarcely now we see you were a living thing
Or at least a part
Of a work of art
That held our mortal eye
Attuned with earth and sky
Please, a silent moment for my soul in mourning
While they cradle the warblers bedight the morning
So sorry that I could not have more cherished thee
Only now realizing the scope of your tragedy
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