This young man walked in
Black suit and black shoes
In his left hand was a briefcase
And in his right was the news
His face seemed tense
He had a crease in his forehead
Probably thinking about his job
Who knows what he contemplated
But his eyes told a different story
They personified moonbeams
His eyes told me his soul
Was thinking about other things
His pupils were ballet dancers
That were caged in normality
His eyes did not agree
With his outer formality
Within him I saw a hungry
Beast of a lion
Within him I saw a vision
Of a fire that was dying
He was doing what was expected of him
He was conforming to them
He was doing his normal routine
Of the socialite man
But he’s so much more than that
His heart was aloof somewhere else
I watched him pay for his coffee
Take a sip
Then he left.
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 7:06 PM UTC
This young man walked in
Black suit and black shoes
In his left hand was a briefcase
And in his right was the news
His face seemed tense
He had a crease in his forehead
Probably thinking about his job
Who knows what he contemplated
But his eyes told a different story
They personified moonbeams
His eyes told me his soul
Was thinking about other things
His pupils were ballet dancers
That were caged in normality
His eyes did not agree
With his outer formality
Within him I saw a hungry
Beast of a lion
Within him I saw a vision
Of a fire that was dying
He was doing what was expected of him
He was conforming to them
He was doing his normal routine
Of the socialite man
But he’s so much more than that
His heart was aloof somewhere else
I watched him pay for his coffee
Take a sip
Then he left.