I have to admit,
and I’ll be the first one to submit,
I am the least handy man around.
Lights are often left unchanged,
squeaky doors leave me deranged,
and magnets to be attached to closets just repel me.
Having to have the tires changed each season,
only gives me a ready reason
to take the car to the shop to have them done.
All thumbs to turn a simple wrench
or pound a nail upon the bench,
most tools see me and run the other way.
Even though I once had yearned,
long ago I had the lesson learned,
I’m better off calling in a pro.
And neither do I hunt nor fish,
nor make an outdoor-four-wheel-wish
to trek into the woods to get some game.
Wild turkeys do not gobble onto my plate,
deer do not get dressed up for a date,
and moose will not be found on freezer shelf.
But in my own defense,
there is a distinctive sort of sense,
that helps make me a different kind of man.
I am more likely to write a poem or line,
about a fixture to be fixed of mine,
than to try to fix it all by myself.
The thing I seem to use the best
is the coffee grinder put to the test,
to make my favourite brew, each and every day.
I am more likely to read to learn something new,
or to delve into a subject I never knew,
and spend time reflecting, often lost in thought.
I love to get my hands into some sticky dough
and listen to the bread breathe until it’s just so,
inhaling the sweet smell as it comes from oven’s heat.
I like to go to class to ballroom dance,
only rarely getting consternation’s glance,
when I trod upon my wife’s noble toes.
But when it comes to crafting out of wood,
something like a rolling pin or board or something else that’s good,
I am blessed to have fine friends, skillful with their hands.
Those around me don’t seem to give a damn,
they accept me for the gem I am,
appreciating my sparkle all the same.
For in the stew of life we’ve got,
we each contribute a different flavour to the pot,
so in the end, the meal is richer for us all.
Please follow and like us:
