My Mystery Man |

My Mystery Man |

By: Raksha Srinivasan | via Write-for-RedPaper

He walks alone with a stealthy stride,
no companion by his side,
walks the way with a sturdy foot,
his companion is his pride.
His eyes, they don’t reveal his pain,
they keep the world in the dark.
His face turns pale when worry strikes,
but glows when happiness embarks.
My Mystery Man he’s simple, in words and deeds and thoughts,
ambitions counted not!
Hopes to find simplicity, in collected treasures by lot.
His treasures! his treasures, they aren’t silver, gold or penny,
his treasures they are those, who will stand by him, when troubles numbered, are many.
My mystery man is kind and tall with generosity reaching heights,
but if you have nose in the clouds, you would miss its worthiness lost in bright light.

Feature Image: Goodreads

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  1. “We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”

    Beautiful poem Raksha S.

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