On a day like today, when we know it's coming,
Those tired eyes fight the self-inflicted fatigue.
Sitting on the porch, blind man is humming,
The sounds of the garden stimulating his intrigue.

He sits in his chair, relaxed, but still,
Whilst all around him, life dances and shouts.
From whistling wind, falling rain, and bird's trill,
The world is painted for him in vibrant bouts.

Though he can't see, he knows pity's gaze,
But those eyes of his will never sting from strain.
He finds beauty in things lost in life's haze,
When people prioritise looks, suffering, and pain.

So pity not the humming blind man,
For he'll forever see more than you yourself can.