A dandy gentleman contemplates the human condition.
He sits alone in a french coffee shop,
poetry and philisophy his primary mission.
An awkward mind and deep pocketed heart, he bites eagerly into a freshly baked maple syrup ****.
His mustache is striking, as though it has a story of its own
He wears a blue velvet coat filled with notes,
not to mention a lifes work of observations and quotes.
He checks his pocket watch from time to time
As he gathers his thoughts to write the next line.
A hint of tobacco can picked up from his vintage clothing
He's a complicated fellow, enigmatic but soothing.
His top hat well established sits on top of his head
His shoes finley polished black with stripes of red.
A long worn out coat still encapsulates his grace
He has a slight intensity reavaled in his face
For this mans work will never be done
For madness is in his nature, to him this is fun.
I thought of this person as an essentric versoin of moi in the future
