My sister requested anything hand made for Christmas. Given our budget, I strolled through our woods locating decayed but interesting pieces of wood. The construction grew out of the wood I found. I’ve written this poem to go along with the gift in case she finds it a bit to abstract for her taste.

Choice of the Ages

 

Time seems fleeting;

            Age develops with ease.

 

Youth, – seemingly drawn towards whatever is new;

            Elderly found pondering a more antiquated view.

 

So too this table of decayed re-organized wood;

            Boasts age marks achieved through a life of ample good.

 

Tattoo and battle scare icons;

            Badges of honor from opportunities past,

            Or, perhaps, emblems signifying better days at long last.

 

Truth is, some may find it time to trade her in;

            Others will embrace the memories within.

 

Either way, – it’s okay;

            For built-in love will always remain,

            In this, your choice, you need not explain.

 

Christmas 2008

Author: C. Stever

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