So, I hang at this place on the web, a forum board, where we have an ongoing contest of prompts, where you take a word, phrase or line from the poem before you as inspiration. Your choice of which words, just make something. When I saw the word "regrooved" something from my past cropped up, watching Grandpa working with wood. Then it gelled in about 15 seconds, cramping my brain, fingers and eyes, but DAMN, I like it.
Hands stroke the wood
seeking the grain as he works
shaping the repair to the dining room table
broken as the grandkids rough housed
despite grandma's loud protests.
Each motion forms boards
into the shapes needed for now
to make the shattered heart of the family
whole once more for next week
when they gather again.
One board with tongues
and another salvaged to be regrooved
then all locked back with his great skill
that built not just this table
but other things too.
Like the china cabinet
the buffet stand holding the food
and most importantly of all his many achievements
the knitting of strong family ties
that hold like glue...
with love.
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