With a warm load of folded laundry under my chin I head toward Daniel’s sock drawer Pulling on the carefully crafted handle I see My grandfather cutting and planning the cherry tree Dropped by Hurricane Carol in 1954 Wood shavings fall about his work boots as he Shapes each panel, never using a ruler, all by eye Boxing the frame, sizing the drawers, sanding surfaces By hand, hence 60 years of grandkids and great grandkids socks The drawer closes effortlessly with a sound Of living heirlooms and heritage Of legacy and family A sound that everything is safe inside That memorials are made to last