poem - checking out the handiwork

The Bricklayer sat by his wall
checking on his own handiwork
finding a flaw

that no one but he
(or another bricklayer)
would ever notice

That imperfection
Had little to do
with the skill of his craft
and more to do
with the pride of perfect labors
when one can walk away from
Content in its completeness.

This made him feel
The work unfinished
His mission not accomplished
Yet the homeowner who hired him
was in a rush
“Don’t touch a thing!
Looks good to me!”
ushering the tradesman away
with a check
and his own consternation

Little did it matter to him –
when
30 years later
Building still erect
every time he passed by
he could see
what he could not aright

And it made him sad.