The Crafter’s Hands

Fingers calloused as hardened bark

Rest, weary, upon his handiwork.

Eons of burning the midnight oil – 

From dusk till dawn he doth toil.

The candle burns low; the night drags slow

Yet the tireless labour fails to cease.

Upon velvet paws creeps slumber deep,

Mother Nature among all falls swiftly asleep.

Night and day he works away

For the pitiful fruits of his labour.

A leisurely lifestyle my father forewent – 

His sacrifice for the kin of his descent.

My legacy is crafted day by day – 

Each engraving carves my future

This is the raw beauty: the everlasting love

Inscribed, stroke by stroke, by the crafter’s hands.

– TishGirl❤️

Published by TishGirl❤️

I'm simply a teenager with the wish to weave words into tapestries of writing. I have a love for all things writing, and blogging allows me to nurture my passion and share my creations with others. Join me on my adventure into worlds unknown...

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