rasret01
Well-Known Member
The other day a friend asked why I spend so much time making knives. I blew him off with one of the standard answers – “Gives me something to do in the shop when my wife locks me out of the house.” – but the thought wouldn’t go away. I do not pretend to be a poet, but after a few days, this is what percolated to the surface…
I’m here with you for a little while
A day, a month, a year
Then I’ll be gone to what I’ve earned
With little to show I was here.
The woman who chose to share my life
Good children, one, two, three
But soon they too must follow -
Fading branches on a family tree.
A little land, a crooked house
My favorite maple tree
A few worn tools in the little shop
But nothing that says – me.
The neighbors will remember
For just a little while
But then their lives will trundle on
And they’ll walk their own last mile.
So I make this knife as best I can
But not for wealth or fame
For the art and craft, for the skill and worth
…for a place to leave my name.
I’d like to think that somewhere
On the twisted path of life
Someone will heft my blade and say
“this man could build a knife”.
And perhaps they’ll stop and ponder
The history of that knife
And even give a little thought
To this maker’s obscure life.
Dick
I’m here with you for a little while
A day, a month, a year
Then I’ll be gone to what I’ve earned
With little to show I was here.
The woman who chose to share my life
Good children, one, two, three
But soon they too must follow -
Fading branches on a family tree.
A little land, a crooked house
My favorite maple tree
A few worn tools in the little shop
But nothing that says – me.
The neighbors will remember
For just a little while
But then their lives will trundle on
And they’ll walk their own last mile.
So I make this knife as best I can
But not for wealth or fame
For the art and craft, for the skill and worth
…for a place to leave my name.
I’d like to think that somewhere
On the twisted path of life
Someone will heft my blade and say
“this man could build a knife”.
And perhaps they’ll stop and ponder
The history of that knife
And even give a little thought
To this maker’s obscure life.
Dick