Familiar Mysteries

A Poem By paperpoet // 12/28/2010


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


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