Ode #3 – The things that really matter

It’s not your contents
that I hold dear,
they’re a jumbled mess
of pearls and pens,
with no sense or order.
Your treasure is held
in the dove-tailed joints,
each hand cut and
notched together,
your edges sanded carefully
so no splinter ever bothered,
and the whittled knob
that pulls you open –
each of two a little different.
You were the pride
of a youngster given
to his mother years ago,
the efforts of his labor
in a shop class long forgotten.
That bedside table that
my father made in 1937,
the date inscribed
on the underside of
a drawer, until recently hidden.
That small wooden table
is of more value to me
than anything gold could ever be.

Writing 201: Poetry Assignment 8
Prompt: Drawer, Form: Ode, Device: Apostrophe

© 2015 DM Shepherd


4 thoughts on “Ode #3 – The things that really matter

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