woodwork

Between us lies a thin crisp wooden plank
put there carelessly like a blank reminder of woodwork
of possible craftsmanship we develop into a
bench for the childhood memories
I still seek long car rides and story reading
and ice-cream sundaes on Sundays
things I never find
But the plank lies there, untouched
We could have made it a library shelf
for my growing introvert to feast at its own leisure
since libraries require no more than one person
with a set of eyes and an open heart
but we both walk it, that plank like a runway,
we walk the middle tipping balance for respect
we raise our hands in respect,
we hug for the sake of respect
and we part in respectful reverence for how
we developed and the plank remains raw
we still wonder, unsure yet knowing
This piece of wood could have made a beautiful table
A table for the evenings and for bird-watch
A table for the time of adults: times of beer, barbecue and breath
I could have carved that table into existence with my nails
but  why with the wood carving tools available?
 in the trunk of your car, hidden the tools are set
coming and going
up and down  they move further from
the places we lay our wood.