There it sits weathered, water stained, and aged.
Once a utilitarian supporter in a barn,
Leaked upon by harsh storms.
Beaten, battered, and destroyed,
Forgotten in time is the ancient block of wood.



It stares blankly at the now unfamiliar world.
Coasting through life waiting for its ultimate demise,
Like the elderly in a nursing home.
Tainted by a knot and one random hole,
The block of wood is content with its new home.



The old block of wood sits dirty and dusty,
Chipped and split from age and environment.
Faded brown in color, and rough in texture,
It has seen many a rain, snow and more.
But still today the wood survives,
Wondering what it’s future may supply.