Rusted Nail

Today, upon the ground, I found a rusted nail. Red and yellowed since its use, It was caked and swollen; cracked lines top to bottom With one turn in its body where last it was removed. And the head was tilted slightly from a blow Received when it was first employed and put to use. I pondered of the purpose it had served And the structure it had helped to hold and form. I recognized its shape having spent many days With hammer in my hand and blueprint in mind. I have straightened many that were pulled and bent And drove them to serve purpose. Once this nail had value and function was providence. Now, it fills a wrinkle of my palm And leads me to wonder…. What will someday become of me? Will a member of the generation born this day Look upon me and speculate my past, And weigh my usefulness against my keep? Will I present as bent? And, will the balding gray and shortened step Persuade them I have passed my day of worth? Or, will they look about their world And see what I have made? So much from just one rusted nail. 4th place in "Darn I Wish I Wrote This" on 6-26-12