This is an old poem. Written shortly after my Father in Law died.
We were told to take what we would like of his plunders. One of the
five inventors and partners of Fenwick Fishing poles this was what I
was seeking. My wife spotted something from her childhood. It was
covered in paint and that was what it was used for for he threw
nothing away. It was English, Lion hand engraved carved heads. The
wife took it home removed the paint. Lovingly hand sanded it was re-
painted. Purists in restoring Antiques the wrong thing to do. But
the value was in the heart and not the pocketbook. It was her dresser
as a child. Today it stands out in our family room. It has found it's
home.
Oaken Treasure
In a corner of Grandpa's basement
exhumed a rare of find
For there we found a mint
In Grandpa's place to unwind
It was not fine wine
It was oak and not pine
Nor was it coin this treasure
And had suffered much from weather
For there amongst his plunder
The oaken desk long ignored
A loving hand returned it's wonder
For it was only waiting to be restored
It had been her friend as a child
yet recent years used to store tools along the wall
In her youth it guarded her in the wild
Scaring away demons nine foot tall
Loving hand removed unwanted gruel
Bring back the snarl to the lion's head
And soon it was by her bed good as new
An addition to our new homestead
).setAttribute('href','//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?sitename=gingersgenre&item=home');document['poetimage'].height='45';document['poetimage'].src='//poetrypoem.com/photos/poets/gingersgenre-button.jpg';;WriteLayer('ptitle',null,'Dance With Me');WriteLayer('ppoem',null,'Dance with me, while we\'re young and strong While life still resemb<a href="//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?poemnumber=1325585&displaypoem=t&sitename=gingersgenre&item=poetry" target="_top" style="text-decoration:none;"><font style="color: #18397C;font: 900 12px times;"> ... More</font></a>');WriteLayer('poetinfocus',null,'gingersgenre');WriteLayer('pdate',null,'2021-09-28')){kind=small}
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