Everything I See

The shovel is old. The patina tells the story.
Worn to a shine, every scar evident,
a warmness to it. Likely a bit brittle.
Aching to be useful.

I am closing in on old. The patina tells the story.
Worn to a shine, every scar evident,
a warmness to me. Likely a bit brittle.
Aching to be useful.

It is as if everything I see
is a mirror.

About this poem.

Inspired by an antique shovel, much like the photograph, that I just repaired for a parishioner. So she could hang it on the wall., a tool her father actually used. About the fact that everything I encounter in life seems to have a lesson.

Tom