Wood

His old hands were brown

from the varnish and the stain

And I had come to talk

in my youth and in my pain

I told him that I was not

the man I want to be

I waited to see what he would say

But he just kept on working

as if I wasn't there

The sweat on his face

and dust in his hair

He paused for a moment

when I'd been there for a while

He wiped his brow - I thought I saw him smile

He just said , "Wood,

From the earth beneath our feet there grows a tree

And we can take it, shape it, to what's it's meant to be

The stronger the fiber, the better for the good

Son, I believe that men are just like wood."

I handed him a timber

and he laid it on the bench

I watched the love and care he took

to measure every inch

the work it got harder

when he cut across the grain

but he just put more shoulder to the plane

I sat there beside him

as he carved out every line

He made a thing of beauty

from a rough 'ol piece of pine

He seem to have the vision

of what the end would be

I felt as if some pieces had been taken out of me

He just said , "Wood,

From the earth beneath our feet there grows a tree

And we can take it, shape it, to what's it's meant to be

The stronger the fiber, the better for the good

Son, I believe that men are just like wood."

I left a little taller

wiser, and free

I learned the use of tools

for the carpenter in me

I don't have all the answers

but one thing I have have found

We are the choices that we make

when the chips are down, wood.

He said, "The stronger the fiber, the better for the good

Son, I believe that men are just like wood."

Just like wood.