if i had a hammer

I go to my tool box
for a hammer. it's not there.
I have no
idea
where it could be.
I check the closets,
the laundry room,
the shed out back.
under the bed.
the kitchen drawer.
it's a heavy hammer, one
I've used for years
to drive
a nail, to remove a nail
to unstick a stuck
door.
I can't find my good hammer,
my friend,
my unwavering source
of banging
on things for twenty five
years.
my hammer is gone.
sadness overcomes me
like never before.