What an honor it would be

 
When someone said
“Are you a Poet?”
I could say “Yes”
 
A Poet
 
Such a great and wonderful existence
it would be
 
To ponder the days
and travel the world
writing in whim
 
No more no less
 
Barefoot if the need arises
or my favor desires
 
People could ask me “Who are you, what do you do?”
I could say “I am Doug, I live”
 
Days and nights would pass
maybe with a loving woman
and maybe a child or two
to love and teach
 
They could go barefoot
I could share the world with them
 
And if someone asked me “Who are you, what do you do?”
I could say “I am Doug, I am a father”
 
But ah…  If someone were to ask me
“Are you a poet?”
I could smile
and mean it
and say “Yes”