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Welders
April 16, 2021
Welders grinding, sparks go flying,
Into the giant skies above
The smell of slag wafts through the air, into my nose
Sitting in a metal pipe,
The heat of the arc on my arms
Countless sticks are in my lap
Turned to nubs by the welders wrath
They made America and anything you see
They’re makers, creators
Using the power of lightning to make buildings that scrape the sky
I’m one of them
Doesn’t matter what you use
Doesn’t matter if you
Just started,
Or retired
We have the hands of a surgeon and the eyes of a sniper
© Ace T., Dededo, Guam
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Welding is one of my many hobbies so I decided to write a poem about it.