Thursday, October 11, 2007


All his tools are here now.

The hammers and screwdrivers,
the table saw that nearly
took my finger once.

See? Here's the scar.

There is rust: the rust
of long years' illness
and two more since his death.

They've mourned long enough.

And so, I will clean them,
shelve them, make them ready.
Who else would do it --

do this one last chore?

Stephen Brooke ©2007

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