Forgive Me If I Seem a Little WoodenCall me tree, and yourself lumberjack,
As you have felled me deftly. No one
Heard the sound, but here I am upon
A hardwood floor, waiting to be shaped
According to whatever whims you have.
You could make me shake. I'm cedar.
You could cut me down to size or spin
Me round and round, and peel me, like
An onion, or reduce me to a heap
Of sawdust or a bag of mulch. Though
Prone, I shudder in your presence, and ask
But one thing of you: how you use me
Doesn't matter, but don't leave me board.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 22 times
Written on 2021-03-30 at 21:51
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