There would be drawers made from scraps of wood
for storing the little things overlooked, discarded,
or left at the side of the road;
nails, screws, washers, hinges, knobs, whatever
he might later need to mend, restore,
to fix the broken, make something whole again.
His ear would be crowned with a pencil for marking, measuring,
but never with perfection,
always accepting of the rough edges, mistakes,
reserved with his words,
but generous in building a foundation of belonging.
Oh yes. Please. Always accept rough edges. Heaven. Thank you.