Eyes wandering, pondering
Wondering which one will suffice.
Trying to start a project, but at what price?
Never gone down this road before
Making a selection, seeming unsure.
Ash, oak or maple,
They’re only a staple.
He wants Mahogany.
This reddish-brown timber comes from a tropical tree.
Out of his league, he doesn’t agree.
Harvested from the wild,
This project’s not for a child.
He begins again,
To shape and mold...this quality so bold.
Trying not to pierce a finger
On the sharp edges of this masterpiece.
Carving, starving to see this work come to its finish.
Trying not to diminish its value.
This lumber lives.
The breath it gives is reciprocal.
His hands gently shape and caress
The nape of this “Mahogany”.
This tropical piece has been exposed to the heat, humidity, fluidity
Of jungle life
Using his tools, carving his knife.
Meticulously shaping, his mind escaping,
Thinking about how Mahogany will be free.
This artist’s hands demands that his work stands alone.
Beholding this beauty,
he knows it’s his duty,
To prize this possession.
His craft. Not a draft.
This woman is his.
Joined by one simple Kiss.