February 25th…“TELL OF A PLACE THAT YOU DISCOVERED OR BUILT FOR YOUR GANG.”
Only in my dreams could I have ever “built” a clubhouse for any gang (of which there was only ONE in the “gang”…..ME). So, to have a fun twist on this entry, I created a poem to describe my talents in woodworking…….or maybe I should say, “Wood Butchering” 😉
POEM – “Wood Butcher” by N. Elliott Noorlun
When I was a kid, And picked up a saw,
I tried to follow the line,
Upon the wood, If only I could,
Make a straight cut on any old pine.
A wood butcher was, The closest thing,
That would describe my craft,
I’d bend the nails, And cry my wails,
My clubhouse was bad fore and aft.
So the only clubhouse, That I had,
Was within my imagination,
All cool n sublime, At any old time,
A little boy happenin’ station.