Fruits Of My Labours Poem by David Harris

People call me famous
for reasons I don’t know why.
They say look what you have accomplished.
My answer to that is
I served my apprenticeship
and what I have is for years of dedication,
starving my self of pleasures
of which others have enjoyed.
My blood, sweat and tears
have gone into what I’ve done.
The fruits of my labours
are now beginning to show,
but I am not famous,
at least of all to me.
I am just an ordinary person,
no heirs and graces will you find,
just an ordinary if not slightly boring me.

24 September 2008