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Thoughts from our
friends and members....
The Old Tool Shed - by Arlo Nau © 1998
The picture of neglect, it stands alone,
Shunned by its neighbors of metal and stone.
Precariously nailed by cobwebs and rust,
Scented with odors, pungent and must.
Varnished by stains of mildew and rain,
Doors hinged with screeches, scratches and pain.
Wrinkled its face, walls slightly awry,
It droops subdued, waiting to die.
How much like me, I sometimes think.
Life has slipped by like one eye's blink.
Held together by stent and truss,
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
Thinning on roof and rutted in face,
Hurtling through time while standing in place.
Occupied most with nothing to do,
June chasing July with August in view.
Occasion'ly, though, there still comes a need
For remnant or scrap or leftover seed.
The old tool shed then stiffens its stance
Like some tom cat in ready romance.
Proud in its service and smiling inside,
Its treasure of refuse it offers with pride.
Bushes and ivy now race to embrace
And palm trees fan its weary, lined face.
No wonder I love you, tired old shed,
You inspire my hope, turn by blood red.
Not often, but then, just once in awhile,
What's wrinkled and frail comes back into style.
A mem'ry, experience, adage or pun
Can dry the hot tears of daughter or son.
What's tired and worn becomes good art
Bespeaking a person who's done his part.
So... through life's toils, trials and crush
I hopefully wait th' Almighty's paint brush.
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Past Thoughts
Faith Or Credulity? - by
Arlo Nau
The Christmas Dove - by
Arlo Nau
Old Tool Shed - Arlo Nau
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