The Shed
Oh yes
I recall the shed to this day
the scent of old wood
and dust floating in the air
cobwebs in corners
sun flooding in through a window
a scarred wooden work table
and tin cans lined up with nails and screws
a coffee cup forgotten . . .
I would bring precious dandelions and buttercups
to be placed in some old can or jar
and would sit watching for hours pondering
the sketches and grand ideas . . .
later we would sit on the porch swing
talking the afternoon away
and I held his hand so tight
never wanting to let go . . .
sadly life had a plan written
and who am I to question destiny
so, I had to let go
after the funeral I stood in the shed
thinking, who will want the rusty tools
of an old man
then I closed that creaky door
forever . . .
_______________________________
May 3, 2017
(Edit from April 14, 2013)
Brian Strand
25 lines
First Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2017
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