by Grateful One

Created on: April 22, 2008

Perched on a stool
placed there for me.
Young owl eyes watched
sure and steady hands.
White wood trimmings
chipped from chisels
with well-worn handles
and pitted, black metal,
beneath a bright working light.

Black rimmed glasses,
and magnified pupils
that glanced my way
from time to time.
Behind them I found
a gentle smile.
They mostly gazed
at the work in hand
above the scarred bench.

Spinning round wood
held clenched in vise
He used brush
with careful strokes.
Tiny slashes of paint,
patterns formed
an imitation,
"Lets fool a fish
to take a bite."

We quietly watched
as balsa dried.
We shared the birth.
Glasses off,
his work done.
I admired it in my hand,
a one of a kind.
fishing lure created
by my Grandpa.

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