The Tinkerer

These days I work alone
Tinkering and the like
I find it so interesting
Filling gaps in my life
The screws and sharp metal
Filling a hole?
No, making it bigger
Pouring empty into empty
I suppose
He used to tinker
He made old things new
And new things old
He worked long
And his hands were leather
His eyes sharp like metal
His words moved
He was a leader
He was a fighter
He smoked
Grandpa. . .
He was a patient
He was an experiment
They didn’t get it right
He was a holy man
Loved by people
By god
loved by me
Grandpa
The tinkerer
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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March 31, 2010 at 5:58 AM
Good morning Justin, I enjoyed reading your poetry this morning. Please continue with your writing endeavors. Love, Carol
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