The Old Whittler

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
The old man whittles away on his final project.

Submitted: May 08, 2008

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Submitted: May 08, 2008



In a musty room
the old man sits.
A dim glow of light flows in
from the ancient window.
The orange hew fills the room.
The smell of dust and ceder permeates all senses.
This is where goes to be alone.
This is where he goes to be alive.
For the past thirty years
nothing has given him as much joy as this room.
So there he sits
on that creaky stool of pine and oak.
Made with his own two hands
in better days long forgotten by most.
There he sits working away.
The features of his face are wrinkled
with stories of yesteryear.
No smile can be seen,
but neither can a frown.
A subtle hint of joy is ever present;
it can be seen in his eye.
Nothing disturbs him.
No one knows he is in this room.
It is his secret.
His brittle hands work away.
Don't be deceived by their looks.
Those hands work diligently
on a project never finished.
The detail of his work would
impress Nicolas Poussin.
Thirty years he had worked
on this project.
There had been others, but
this one was never finished.
Around him sat his finished works.
They taunt and mock him.
Some look like animals.
Others model dreams.
All watching him work on his final project.
Whittling away as the light grew dimmer.
The orange hew almost fading away.
Soon nightfall will come
and he will leave this room.
So little light he can barely continue.
But he feels that he must.
For he is old and there is no telling
when he will finally go.
No children of his own to pass on his work.
He can barely see;
the light almost gone from sight.
But he knows the time has come.
His creation is complete.
The successor he had always
wanted now existed.
A few will call him brilliant.
Most will call him mad.
But what was done was done.
His life's work was complete.
The old man could die happy now.
He was just waiting for his successor to speak.
He sat in darkness now waiting to hear the voice.
Yet, it never rang.
But the old man was already at peace.

© Copyright 2018 Steve Ritter. All rights reserved.

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