“My name is Rusty Pipes”

My name is Rusty Pipes—now don’t you laugh!  
I’m the oddest moniker this side of the craft.  
In a town where the gulls shriek above the blue bay,  
You’ll find me tinkering at the break of each day.

With a wrench in my belt and a whistle in tow,  
I patch up the plumbing where cool waters flow.  
Old copper and iron, with stains tinged like rust,  
Are loyal companions I’ve come to trust.

Children giggle when I stroll down the street,  
“My name is Rusty Pipes—ain’t that neat?”  
But I tip my old cap and I give ’em a wink,  
For a curious name makes you pause and think.

Once I was Ronald—far blander, it’s true,  
But “Rusty” came calling as my trade surely grew.  
“Rusty Pipes,” they all said, “he’s the man with a knack—  
He’ll fix every drip and he never looks back.”

At sunset I sit by the docks and I muse,  
How strange are the journeys we never would choose.  
So here’s to all names that life may devise—  
They carry our stories and color the skies.

If you need a new faucet or hope never leaks,  
Just call out for Rusty—I’m gone in two shakes!  
A name sometimes fits you, sometimes it shapes—  
I’m proud to be called simply Rusty Pipes.

Create Your Own Poem | Recent Poems