I listen to him singing softly through his nose, He’s humming a song I don’t think I know I watch him at work and I feel so at ease Seeing not just the forest, but each of the trees The curve of his brow and the lines near his eyes The tones of his voice and the lift of his sighs He frowns ever so slightly and his lips form a line Whenever he’s reaching deep into his mind He has scars on his hands with a story for each And his eyes hint at things my own cannot reach
Genre