The Wooden Board

Written by Dave Cuyler Cruz of G10-Proactiveness

Graphics by Uno Nanimus

There was once a time.

A nail was driven.

The board stood still...

as the hole was given.

The hole stayed there

Stayed there it did.

Even as time passed...

it remained as it is.

But the board doesn't last...

Nothing ever does.

It started decomposing...

Like everything must.

But even after fire...

Water... and air...

Even as it withered away...

The hole was still there.

This poem isn't about wooden boards.