Friend

.

What careful observations he makes,
How precise his conclusions are.
But despite the extensive work he puts into perfection,
He’s still absolutely blind to the biggest, most crucial flaw.

Where is your heart, good sir? Is it on your sleeve, perhaps?
Oh no, no. You’re much too groomed for that.
A heart on the sleeve is much too messy, has far too many mishaps!

Then show me your heart, kind sir! Have you already given it away?
Alas no, for there should be many grateful individuals gathered round you.
But all I see is the deep, dark shine, of clever machinations
And the distant hum of those separate, lost and half-forgotten connections.

May I have your heart, gentle sir? Without any strings attached?
And yet, I already see your cold, hard gaze instead planning my fall,
Though my question should be, of no cost at all.

Never you mind then, warm-hearted young sir.
You keep your plastics- no, no, of that I’m sure.
Because I’ve found, the best gift lies- not in acrylics,
Good food, or elocution.
It’s not something life for you buys.

It’s in that heart, which you can so easily discard,
Between the softest of soft and the hardest of hard.
I might not reach that top that you so lovingly prize,
But I will truly have lived, watched the sun set and rise.