I feel the grain of the wood
Its rich red magnificence
And I mourn anew the death of the tree
That gave life to my world.
The steps, the beds, the chairs
Defined my life, my love of the woods
Dry disintegrated into iron seared sand
Imprints of a past few will remember
But it was my past, my ancestors,
And as I visited them
I would wonder at their thoughts,
Their actions, their loves,
Because all that is in them
Is what led to me.