Rusted Nail in Wood

"i am aging metal rusting from an abandoned factory

worker's arthritic hands that dropped me onto a 

cracked cold wet cement floor; where oxygen 

shadowed me relentlessly, disturbed my sleep

disturbed my dream like a listing ship in a tideless

sea, thieved away in a tattered pocket, sold for

3s 6d to a blind carpenter with broken tools

with a broken soul, hammered me into a piece

of decaying wood where rain and sun and

wood particles aged me, i cannot differentiate 

any longer between my drunk and sober state,

i bleed the rust, nothing good ever came from

a bitter act, but alas a hammer's claw retracts me,

what is my new fate i ask, i am used to strengthen

a child's swing, to feel the child's soulful laughter,

to see them age, to leave, then to feel another

young voice, straying hearts oft times venture

for a ride in the clouds, higher than an illusion, 

oh, you cannot go, without me...

Copyright © 01/06/2013 Barbara Sutton and Lance Sheridan