The plumber

In talent there is no hierarchy,
all are unique as their fingerprints.
When I envy the goldsmith
my focus shifts from my plumbing flair
to what I lack-jewel molding craft,
erringly assuming he has it all perfect
when every body is a toddler somewhere
no matter be they born genius.
I must coach my kindergarten mind
and juvenile heart, to leave behind
the urge to be somebody else
and preserve their singularity
to do what I am born to do.
My only metric of comparison
is the version of me
who woke up yesterday.



Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 31 times
Written on 2026-07-13 at 11:07

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
I am not a plumber - well, not accredited as one that is. But reading this poem I realised that things don't change that much as you age. Nicely put. Blessings, Allen
2026-07-13


Clara Mae Gregory The PoetBay support member heart!
🎯 Excellent.

Genius.
2026-07-13