He chewed as he fixed and thought.
Two flashlights glimmered from his pockets.
One red, one blue, both aglow quietly.
Two screwdrivers jangled, his secret voices.
The fence hummed better after his wave.
The doorknob clicked, the squeak replaced.
He didn’t mind his mismatched strange tasks.
People knew—his hands turned broken magic.
A whirr, a twist, a beam of blue!
A chew, a hum, a satisfying “Hmm.”
He made clocks smarter, windows stop whining.
And somewhere, stars whispered, “Look at him too.”
The tools danced, his beard caught the wind.
Dull things grew brighter wherever he'd spin.
No shiny suit or noble knightly mission.
Just a man chewing, fixing, endlessly listening.
-
Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: April 13th, 2026 04:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship
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Comments4
Clever work Gray and the man could be anyone of many. Nicely written
Thank You Soren
Most welcome Gray
a good write much enjoyed
Thank You Norman
most welcome
Nicely written. Enjoy.
The Handyman
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