Forgotten Dish

Here I rest
My wooden self
Forgotten, up
Upon this shelf

Stoneware dish
Gets used all day
But up here
I live, I stay

Have I done
Some something wrong
Or, is this
Where I belong

I wait up here
For my turn
To serve—each year

Then one day
I hear Him call,
To this dish
Upon the wall

“Wooden dish,
I’ve need of you
There is work
For you to do”

Fills me up
With food so fine
Flattest bread
The reddest wine

Twelve plus one
I serve with Thee

Master, You
Keep every date
Your timing
Is never late.