In my shop I found a square
I think my parents left it there
it was rusty and unused
“I need this at work.” I mused
It was among some others there
planes for wood, a larger square
They had belonged to my mother’s dad
just a few of the many he’d had
It went to work with me that night
to set a blade, make sure its right
and even though it wasn’t new
that little square was perfect true
My Grampa was a quiet man
He worked a lot with his hands
and to me it just seemed right
To re-employ that square last night
Tools were made better in his day
And too expensive to just throw away
They don’t make things like that anymore
use new things once, then out the door
I think my Grampa would be proud
to know something of his was still around
to know that they are treasured things
true as ever, just like him.
Love this