Poem of the Month



Sawdust On The Wind

In memory of my Father


Back before the second great war

You came to America’s promising shore

To ply your trade with hammer and nail

Shaping wood to tell a tale.


Little could you know that life

Would become

Like so much sawdust on the wind.


On a return to your homeland

You met your love and offered your hand

The years would pass from good to bad

After you lost all that you had.


Entwined with another’s pain

Happiness scattered

Like so much sawdust on the wind.


No more furniture ever was made

Your illness robbed you of plying your trade

Instead you built a family of three

Who never fueled your creativity.


Day to day the same routine

Cutting you down

Like so much sawdust on the wind.


A table, a lamp, a saw, a plane

The total legacy of a lifetime and a name.

Yet more continues where you never could dream

In my DNA, I follow your creative stream.


I stand and remember you

Then using my skills

Gather all your sawdust from the wind.     

                       ©2018   -  Leona M Seufert





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