Kelsey Johnson - Wood

Pitter-pat, the rain falls against the wood
And each dropp once more begins to erase
What once was on the old carriage,
Left forgotten in the wet grass.
“Look there, ” I say and we step closer to peer under.
I stroke the still soft wood
That hints of the days when the grains gleamed
With polish, worn smooth and soft from use.
We turn to go and I say a soft goodbye
To the lonely face behind the fence
As his hopeful eyes turn sad once more.
And each dropp continues to create what will be.

Kelsey Johnson

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wood-3/