The Masters Box

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I figured I owed you guys a new one since it’s been raining for two days steady here. I recently brought my Fathers apprentice toolbox over to the lakehouse to display in the big room. The box was made by him in the late 40’s at the end of his apprenticeship at Fisher Body. It had been at my workshop at the farm hidden in a corner for nearly 30 years….when I wiped it off and saw it again in the light… the memories flooded back of working by his side in the shop for so many years as a young kid. It made me think about all the things he taught me…. which at the time seemed tedious. Learning to work with my hands and do for myself whenever I needed to build something turned out to be a lasting gift from my Father.. This poems a little thank you for my Dad and all the men like him who built things by hand and then passed their knowledge on to their sons and daughters, Hope you like it, and it’s about way more than a tool box. PT

The Masters Box

Just a box of wood and inlay
Made real by father’s touch
Passed down one generation
By a man that cared so much

Each line would tell his story
Its handmade craft made real
Tight grain and hand filed metal
Would yield to craftsmen’s feel

Along this straight and narrow
Where skills slow built cross time
As training yields to masters hands
Fine skills pass down through line

I learned beside this giant man
Who taught me life needs care
And passed to me his gentle gift
From a lifetime built then shared

PT Muldoon
© 2016, PT Muldoon

 

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