Poem: Building Boats

 

workshop

Building Boats

Scraps and sawdust litter the floor.
Tools hang on the walls, not quite in order.
The smell of resin fills the air.

Old rope hangs on the wall,
Old caulking pulled from the seams
lays on the bench. Dust hovers in the air.

Two boats sit on blocks. Chest high
in different stages of disrepair, incomplete
and yet you can see their beautiful future.

The most beautiful things are always made
of mess and work and time.

About this poem

Almost anything worth having or being takes mess and work and time. Love. Faith. Success. Oh yes, and boats.

The photograph was taken at Mystic Seaport, one of my favorite historical destinations.

Tom

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