I saw the old man circling the tree trunk
Weather beaten skin, bent gnarled hands
and piercing blue eyes

He seemed to study every knot and crack
in that ancient timber

Then without a word turned and picked up hammer and chisel

The wood chips then began to fly and like confetti on the ground lie soon in heaps some ankle high

Occasionally he would stand back and look but never once a rest he took

Mallet strokes both hard and soft some from under some aloft fell there with unerring skill always busy never still

Long into the night he worked now by the light of an oil lamp and so the tree stump 'neath his hand then became a work of art

At long last he stood and turned to me and said three words " that'll do lad"

I approached to see just what he'd done and there I saw the perfect rose every petal and leaf in place the slender stems in the breeze did sway

With no plan or picture he had made the start
And created the perfect work of art.


So what is creativity? Well that's your next challenge.

No love poems because they've been done a million times. This time something unique

Whenever I'm getting toasted like a bagel,
I hold my hits deep for Robert Nagel.
I can't believe that **** happened.
I know its real, but it feels like a fabel.

I feel real bad for the girlfriend,
Her heads probably spinning like a whirlwind.
There's not much I can say to take the pain away;
Just know He'll save you when the world ends.

They say the good die young.
Well how come?
C'mon fate,
Can we get a better outcome?

So I guess for now, we all pray.
We love you Rob.
Forever and Always.