virus dance name note lingers runway rugged quaver paper prey veil wish
Converted runway into "runs away". Poetic licence.
A Curious Man
“Curiosity is the wick
in the candle of learning.”
— William Arthur Ward
It’s a mess, his mind.
It dances,
The only part of him that does,
It lingers then runs away
On a whim, on an idea,
That, virus-like, takes him
Down exciting pathways,
A prey to his curiosity,
Where he draws aside veils
That few normal men
Dare to part.
His realm is also a mess.
Papers, notes, books,
A microscope, two actually,
A brass Tibetan singing bowl,
A decanter of port, brandy.
Paintings, plants, music.
A rubber puppet of Leonid Breznev.
Three lacrosse balls,
Chinese medicine balls,
A computer and an abacus.
A kaleidoscope of stuff:
A harlequin testament
To a curious mind.
He’s not a rugged man,
Not a blokey man,
Not even a man’s man.
He laughs at the ridiculous.
Has no football team,
Hard pressed to even name one.
Writes poetry of various sorts,
Abhors cruelty and injustice.
Gets emotional easily,
His voice will quaver,
And his eyes water readily.
But he doesn’t care,
It’s because he does.
As men go, he is, well...
Curious.
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