here no more for they have gone
the wheelbarrow thoughts i dwell upon
mom, dad and brother have passed away
this tool reminds and is here to stay

before my life it was bought
now rusted, faded the handles rot
at age of two, bricks did it haul
dad built a home for the family all

dad gave rides to a crew of tykes
up the hill we oh so liked
a playhouse built when i was ten
a grand mansion it seemed back then

sidewalks, fences, concrete mixed
with tons of red building bricks
the paint has faded, and the handles weathered
this old wheelbarrow is much much treasured


{nephew told me when in high school he was asked to write a "Wheelbarrow" poem. He asked what I would write, this is my try at the assignment}