By Craig Werth
Submitted by iammyself
Date: 2007 Aug 11
Comment on this Work
[[2007.08.11.22.21.668]]

Sycamore

Winter last was strangely cold
Something snapped, I was suddenly old
Got so hard to climb the stairs
To go to bed way up there
I made the chair my nightly home.

Ate up fast my wood supply
In early fall it was piled high
But when the north wind came on through
There was just a stick or two
And I ran out under clouded skies.

Sometimes luck does fall my way
The old truck started yet another day
Took it slowly down the road
To acquire another load
While Hubble Field went brown to gray.

The hollowed road does weave and wind
Been down it so long I could drive it blind
Still half a cord at Abbott's farm
One more load would do no harm
And where he's gone he'll never mind.

Work goes slow when you live alone
Took quite some time to get back home
Too dark to build a stack
I pulled three logs from the back
Inside to warm these weary bones.

I dropped a piece of sycamore
Bark side up on the living room floor
Within a heart were carved the lines
Of your name next to mine
Something I'd seen just once before.

It was the only part of you
Within the only heart for me
On that old tree got left behind.

Ice wind tapped the window pane
My breath was short, my back was strained
I picked the log up off the floor
Unlatched the woodstove door
Now I won't see that heart again.

It was the only part of you
Within the only heart for me
On that old tree got left behind.

It was the only part of you
Within the only heart for me
On that old tree got left behind.