Dennys Closet

by Aiko Timmer
260205

Oh, ye whose hearts are resonant, and ring towards romance,
Hear ye the story of a man, the man of talking hands,
A man of poetry his is, yet who, when trial came,
Could feel within his soul upleap and soar the sacred flame;
Could stand upright, and scorn and smite, as only heroes may;
Oh, hearken! Let me try to tell how Denny made his way.

One day his closet al worn down, broke down, returned to dust,
And there was darkness and despair, replacement was a must,
The view of prices in the shops, they made him nearly cry
He saw the thousand dollar tags with horror in his eye.
Remembering what his father said, who never told a lie
He started looking for his tools just knowing work was nigh.

"Rout out the bedroom one and all!" the Southern hero said
Make place for a new closet now but do not touch the bed.
He went into the timber store, bought nails and some fine wood,
"Behold!" he said, "I think I'm in the closet-making-mood".
And midst of all the stuff he bought this glorious man would stand
A statue of self-sacrifice, a hammer in his hand.

So after careful planning and approval by his wife,
He made a closet fine and good, the project of his life.
Just step by step he finished it, his wife stood by his side,
It cost him blood and sweat and tears that cannot be denied.
He clutched his hammer once again and long he aimed and good
And then he drove the final nail into the stubborn wood.

He looked upon the work he did with sweat upon his face,
And all could see within his eyes the glory of his race.
The glory of a lot of man who for their wifes at home,
Take up their tools and make a walk in closet of their own.
He is a man of talking hands but now ye all do know
These hands do more then talking, that's for sure, let it be so.

Footnote:  An article was posted by myself in the AS! Assembly section Home and Garden, about building my wife a walkin closet and this poem was also submitted to the same section.  Those who know me realize that I have a fondness for poetry, but this particular poem really caused me to reflect upon the fact of thinking we know  something about a person, but realizing that in fact we know very little.

Aiko. the reason for the picture by Chohole (Pam) is two fold:  My wife is an avid horse fan and rider and Pam is also someone like yourself, who is not only worth knowing, but getting to know better too.

Alt-A or Enter- Top of Page.

.

Back to Poetry - Index.