Rough Finish

The spice rack, leaning just a bit,

the one I put together from a kit.

My 'handiwork,' a crooked line

of shelves that never quite align.

A nail poked through, I didn't care

to fix it, just left it sticking there.

It holds the jars, it does the job,

a testament to what my hands can rob

from perfect form. The wood's not smooth,

I missed a spot, to tell the truth.

A constant reminder, every day,

of the skill that just slipped away.