old paint

Old paint bubbles loose
at the urging of intense heat;
a steady stroke with the scraper
reveals the cured wood beneath.

Here lies treasure;
the pungent departure
of paint patina unveils
old worked woodgrain
preserved since sure hands
planed, cut, fixed in place:
pleasing to the eye,
an art itself.

I become a part of this
old  craft long gone:
sweet wood, hand made.

(Visited 17 times, 1 visits today)
FavoriteLoadingAdd to favorites

About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *