My Carved Boomerang

The boomerang, it hangs in my room on the side of my wall.
Compared to everything, it seems so minor, like an ant inside of a mall.

Its essence of small oak trees reminds me of old times.
If I was forced to consume it, I would hope it tastes of limes.

The writing on the sides holds many memories, oh so old.
Looking at the carvings around it brings to a time when it was carved in the cold.

The writing reads: ‘To Josh, from your best mate, Alexi,’ engraved with a marker.
As the writing goes on and continues to surround me, it gets more smudged and darker.

It feels smooth but a rush of roughness strokes through the modern-day artefact.
The complexity makes it feel like it was solely created for a stage act.

Not to be used for throwing, as it holds memories of childhood, and old friends,
When you run your finger around it, you can easily feel the sharp bends.

As the lustrous wood gets gloomier, I start to forget,
All the things I did that I regret.

If I have children, boy or girl,
When given this prized possession, I’m sure their hearts will swell.

Hopefully, my kids will pass it down,
And I hope the purified wood stays brown.

And near the end of my life, and my heart begins to stall,
I will remember one thing: the boomerang that hangs on my wall.