Work Tools
Her work tools,
My antique,
They remind me of her dedication,
They stayed with her till her migration.
Her hands were unwearied by gloom,
They strived until there was bloom.
She was untiring in her quest,
Dawn awakened her zest,
In her chamber, there was a field,
In it also flowed a stream that healed,
This was the secret of her wellness,
This aided her wholeness.
As I walk through the meadow,
Her kind words echo,
Oh, how time slows a vessel,
Oh, how it brings an end to every wrestle.
March 26, 2023.
Copyright © Thompson Emate | Year Posted 2023
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