Inheritance Poem by Holmes Jim

Through the years while buying wood,
I've placed aside the one's I could,
Who's beauty wears upon it's breadth,
And saturates its thickened depth,

They join my cache, my treasured haul,
Of random lengths, against the wall,
I gaze upon them with artistic sight,
Inspiring passion to take flight,

Exquisite lumber with aesthetic grain,
Revered for years, they may remain,
I'll claim a piece with measured skill,
That makes the grade for that special build,

Each board waiting for it's fated use,
To become some art, I may produce,
As my pile grows, each calendar year,
It weighs upon me, a silent fear,

A few figured beauties, I stand in awe,
Will never meet my trusty saw,
They will of course, when my time comes,
Be inherited by my two puzzled sons.