The man, sitting in the computer chair
With a grey sweater and the smell of hard work drifting about him
His beard is braided in two little braids
Silver tendrils weaving their way through the fading black
His glasses reflect the world about him
Creating two extra eyes, seeing double everything everyone else sees
So observant, yet so oblivious to the world about him
He throws his head back and gives a silent laugh,
Because shh! We're in a library
And he puts his head back down and grins
I imagine that he read something quite funny
And just couldn't help himself
And there he goes again, laughing silently and shaking his head
Murmuring to himself
What is he saying? I wonder
What secrets could be spilling from those lips
From the words that he read on the computer screen?
Or are they secrets at all?
Maybe they're just words
Lost in the passage of time
So I continue to sit here and watch this man
As the silver weaves its way through his hair.
