Your Workbench Waiting

In your darkened basement, your shop out in the rear,
Or in the back bedroom, in the closet folded flat.
You built me thick and strong of oak and cord,
Or bought me folding cheap if that
Was all you could afford.
I'm waiting for you here,

Built to rebound at your hammer blow,
Bracing myself to take your weight,
Enduring the pressure of the clamp,
Accepting the slipping chisel cut.
The welder's sparks,
The needles and the nails,
I take it all unto myself.

I'm the steadiest and sturdiest of tables,
I'm the surface you are not afraid to mar...
It's what you need me for.

I bear on my back your dreams of accomplishment,
Plans for improvement,
Your lists and your diagrams,
Unfinished art, bobbins and bolts,
Flower bulbs, pots, lost tools and love letters,
Everything…
All of the the workstuff of your life,

and more.

Where have you been?

I am piled high with the things you've begun.
Things that you care about, yet leave undone,
Work whose incompletion feels like sin.
Where have you been? Where have you been?

Start over now,
Come back to me,
come work with me….
there's room on me

For a new thing to begin.

Tom, February, 2007

Grampa: That is absolutely brilliant. Thank you for posting it.