Sorry to hear about your lose. The following was written the first time my dad didn't recognize me .. his dementia finally won. Hope there's some comfort in there somewhere...
Safety Box
Don’t build a child a safety box,
Protecting them from life's cruel knocks.
Give them trees old and worn,
Bashed about and slightly torn.
Branches twisted with knotted grain,
Deeply soaked by sun and rain.
Show them how to safely fell,
Pass the axe but warnings tell.
Ensuring tool doesn’t block or bind,
Guide the child to open mind.
Show them how to remove dead wood,
Wood on fire on they really should.
Show them how to cut a board.
Pass the saw to smile that's broad.
Ensuring tool doesn’t block or bind.
Guide the child to have clear mind.
Show them how to cut dead straight,
Rough cut wood ideal for gate.
Show them how to plane it square,
Pass the plane to wondrous stare.
Ensuring tool doesn’t block or bind,
Guide the child to have free mind.
Show them how to check it’s true,
Planned wood used by table crew.
Show them how to sand it down,
Pass the paper to curious frown.
Ensuring tool doesn’t block or bind,
Teach hard work is good for mind.
Show them how to finish real neat,
Sanded wood ideal for seat.
Show them how to cut to size,
Pass the tape to studious eyes.
Ensuring tool doesn’t block or bind,
Nurture their inquisitive mind.
Show them how to accurately measure,
Treasured wood ideal for pleasure.
Show them how to take great care,
Pass the timber now totally bare.
Ensuring tool doesn’t block or bind,
Telling them to keep clear mind.
Show them how to work in teams,
Team work halves the load it seems.
Watch them build a two way gate,
Cross bars keeping sawn wood straight.
Mitred joins cut square and true,
Gate hung on post with help from you.
Watch child's friends come and go,
Show locked gate keeps out the foe.
Watch them build a friendship table,
Planned wood fixed to keep it stable.
Tonged and grooved planks laid out true,
Tabled levelled with help from you.
Watch child's friends come and share,
Show there's room for all who care.
Watch them build a loving seat,
Sanded wood joined real neat.
Complex joins holding true.
Seat is solid with help from you,
Watch child's friends come and play,
Show there's room to have their say.
Watch them build a box of strength,
Accurately cut wood made to length.
Complex joins friends smooth true,
Box is filled with help from you.
Watch child's friends take from box,
Show there's no room for hidden locks.
Watch them build a space to grow,
Not to large or to slow.
Measured square marked out true,
Space is filled with help from you.
Watch child's friends play in space,
Show them its ok to lose a race.
Watch the child grow up strong,
The tools you gave will still belong.
Pulled from box in time of need,
When used well they will succeed.
They will build tools bright and new,
Always based on thoughts of you.
Watch the tools you first gave.
See them used by well behave.
See the gate now sanded neat.
See the table now next to seat.
See the box now polished deep.
Hear the child's tales they keep.
Be that tree strong and tall,
Keep friend gate unlocked for all.
Keep love seat full and clean,
Keep friends table full and seen.
Keep life's box full and neat,
Keep box on table besides love seat.
A child will find their tree still laid,
But in their box you allowed be made.
Are lessons learnt filed neat away,
With great memories of each past day.
Tools aligned and ready at hand,
Their tree at rest but proudly grand.
Their tree travels to distance hill,
To join a forest all lifeless still.
Roots deep and branches wide,
Standing proud to be a guide.
Looking out for the world to see,
How to be a perfect tree.
A child will look to distance hill,
Memories of you a sadden thrill.
With tools beside on display,
Box arranged no disarray.
Gate wide open table laid,
All loving hand crafted made.
The life journey their old tree took.
A trail is left as branches shook.
Where each leaf touched the ground.
New young shoots are always found.
The child will care and watch each grow.
Following the path they clearly show.
Next generation comes along,
Singing tales in mournful song.
You'll see your child as old tree,
With their own box for all to see.
Gate wide open and table laid,
Seat full but fresh room made.
Old tree now looks to distant hill,
Sees their ancient tree not still.
As memories flow of great times past,
When their own box was built to last.
Inside their box they'll quickly reach,
To pass the tools to correctly teach.
Passed to child of tearful face,
New axe on tree they carefully place.
Beads of sweat ask if they should,
A nod from old tree says they could.
Axe swings the first cut is laid,
Child's own box now being
· Reply · Translate · Jul 19, 2022 
