I'm sitting here in the room I grew-up in.
Knotty pine walls with all the build-ins.
My mom's brother was the carpenter.
He went from farming to entrepreneur.
You could draw a line right done the middle.
Each half the room a mirror riddle.
Identically the same you see.
The craftsmanship of highest degree.
It really was built for my two older brothers.
Two years apart but different from each other.
The older one with the book smart sense.
The younger with the street smart defense.
They are both 10 years older than I.
So really the room wasn't mine.
Until I was much older you see.
But I still think of it as built for me.
That's were I spent most of my remembering years.
All the memories laughter and tears.
So, here I am again, sitting in this room.
Feeling the safeness, as if back in mother's womb.
Boy, don't you wish you could turn back the clock,
and go back to the place that was your rock.
When your biggest worry wasn't time,
but what you could buy with one thin dime.
29 April 2007
JoJo Bean
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/knotty-pine-notes/
