Strands of a Spoon

Coarse, yet smooth strands of lumber entwining
Interlocking, tangling together.
Forming shapes of love,
Ribbons of hope reminding me of my happiest days.

The strands reach out,
Guide me through the precarious pattern of life.
Through the bumps, crevices and details,
Through the stories that seethe in it’s walls.

Yet how does it stay so still?
With so many stories, emotions and moments flowing within.
How is it still?
With all the strands that stay lifeless though full of life.

I hold it, grip it, cradle it towards my welcoming chest.
I trace my fingers across it’s uneven surface,
Here it whisper its many stories in my ear.
Then I glance at the object in my arms,
Seeing only an object,
Seeing only a wooden spoon.