One I Can Hold
My granddad was a carpenter,
His tools too big for me.
He made a little tool carrier,
Its handle sanded fine.
I stood beside his workbench,
And watched the sawdust fall.
How much I helped,
I couldn't say,
I can't remember it all.
My other granddad was a mason,
He cut some boards with his saw.
A bottom and four simple sides,
No lid, and nothing more.
He did the work that needed him,
And I helped where I could.
There was more room for my small hands Inside that box of
wood.
One had a handle,
sanded smooth, One had four sides and a floor.
One still stands beside my tools,
One I can't find anymore.
And if you asked me which I'd choose,
I wouldn't know where to start.
One I can still hold in my hands,
But both I carry in my heart.
The carrier stayed through all the years,
Through every place I knew.
It stands inside my workshop now,
Beside my other tools.
The little box went missing,
I can't say when or where.
It took the passing years to learn How much I wished it
there.
One had a handle,
sanded smooth, One had four sides and a floor.
One still stands beside my tools,
One I can't find anymore.
And if you asked me which I'd choose,
I wouldn't know where to start.
One I can still hold in my hands,
But both I carry in my heart.
I wish I knew where it had gone,
I wish I'd known back then.
Some things you only learn to treasure
When you can't hold them again.
One had a handle,
sanded smooth, One had four sides and a floor.
One still stands beside my tools,
One I can't find anymore.
And if you asked me which I'd choose,
I wouldn't know where to start.
One I can still hold in my hands,
But both I carry in my heart.
I turn the handle in my hands,
And think of wood and screws.
The one I've kept,
the one I've lost,
I still couldn't choose.