The noblest, normal little chap
had eyes of the dawns red rise,
and beliefs like bubble wrap that
would pop to his surprise.  

Cloaked in the mornings mist
he'd speak of the night like it was never to come.
He'd take the hours just to twist them
and hold them under his thumb.

Sucha noble savage, sucha champ!
Such an intriguing little creature.  
Some call him foul, Others a *****,
but to me he is my treasured teacher.

He runs soil through his scarred hands
and talks of the life that he holds.
" This here is my love, my little land,
it can crumble but it never ever folds"