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Floor Boards

It has been a long winter
With a very late spring;
The furnace in our house
Strains to warm the night.
As I pace on cold floor
The wood creaks, shifting with my weight.

Long has this house stood
Through storm and sunshine;
Bending with each season.
Tonight the boards are especially tired:
I feel their pain
And listen to their soft moan.
Yet, they remain in place
Holding to their function.

I hear there is a market for aged wood;
Someday this floor will be replaced
Finding another use.
For now, bending and straining,
Reaching out to a spring
That is long overdue.

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