artlessly maki (makison) wrote in dazeofanew,
artlessly maki

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grandfather, three days shy

The powder shackles of sawdust
and that stale smell of a workshop
well loved and utilized,
are subtly complemented by
the glistening of cold, hard
steel and the rigid teeth of
a craftsman's favorite tool.

In this concrete enclosure,
there once stood a being of
flesh who created with lumber.
He fashioned his calloused
hands against wood grains,
never flinching when yet
another splinter bonded
itself with leather fingers.

There he stays,
sawing yet deeper still,
in silent volumes only
heard by garage mice.
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