All have skills,
No arguing that.
For each of them,
We wear a hat.
Whether it’s cooking,
Or, maybe baking,
A Chef’s hat is yours,
For the taking.
Maybe you’re great,
At fixing cars.
Mechanic’s your hat,
No holds barred.
Or, just really handy,
In the house, around.
Know just what to fix,
Making that strange sound.
But, there is one hat,
Not all can wear.
That of a Poet,
Sits on our heads, here.
When we’re happy,
Or, when we’re sad,
Or, want to honor,
A Lass or a Lad.
Or, maybe an occasion,
In our history.
Our pen to paper,
A poetic story.
So, no matter the lid,
On my noggin, I don,
I hope my poet one,
Forever remains on.