I stare at the mahogany chest I built
well more than thirty years ago
recalling some details of my craftsmanship:
my first dovetails  — first drawers 
made in a small garage.
Where will it be —
O where will it be when I am ninety-three?
So many things we’ve gathered
to make our house a home —
 that chest is one of these.
It’s bound to outlast me.
O where will it be?

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