The workshop’s pegboard matrix a dry
pocked face
Holding each work tool carefully to its
assigned place.
The hammer’s steel head set at a 45-degree
slant;
No longer concerned about a loose board
or a wayward nail.
The family of screwdrivers in parade upon
a wire base
Each waiting father’s old hands to reach
out in hail!
Will it be a Philip or a straight end’s
turn
To fasten down a screw’s lose rant?
The jigsaw’s teeth are ready - sharpened
and clean of all debris
however, today there will be no wood or
metal cuts to recant.
For dear Father’s work was done precisely
and not misbegotten.
The workshop clock’s hands stilled too; though his time will
never be forgotten.
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