MY WOOD BOX
A fine wood box my son did build;
It aids the fight of hard winter’s chill.
But it’s now my lot its width to fill.
I must admit that I’m now ill –
Equipped to do as back then,
Me and my wood box first began.
I truly know it did not grow,
It just must be I’m getting slow.
But it seems its depth has deepened so,
That to the wood pile I more often go,
To try to fill it now as then,
Too quickly I must go back again.
But I’m thankful for both box and son,
I appreciate the box, while praying for the one
Who built it, seems so long ago,
But time’s moving faster even as I slow!
Gene Breed
December 13, 2018
