Family - My Father The Wood-Worker Poem by Paul Warren

I remember my father as he lovingly shaped wood
As he happily worked away as he always would
Standing in his workshop working wood was his special time
When he spent his spare hours chipping away so sublime

When I now close my eyes and smile when I think of him
It's with a saw or hammer as it was his personal hymn
And I like to think that's how he now spends his hours
In God's carpenter's workshop using his woodworking powers.

© Paul Warren Poetry