TOO BUSY LIVING

He had a face like autumn,

It had dropped, and lost its sheen.

A body like a dead bird,

Lifeless, and needs a preen,

But he managed to get attention,

And caught everybody’s eye.

To this day I cannot tell you,

Or begin to explain why.

His charisma was like a magnet.

A smile like magnetic north,

Would always find your humour,

And with a look could bring it forth,

There was nothing that made him special,

No good looks, or silver tongue.

His clothes were not designer,

They just hung where they hung.

He was far too busy living

To be concerned with all of that,

Saw a person walk towards him,

So held the door, and doffed his hat,

He had a mood like springtime,

Like a flower yet to bloom.

The mood was that much brighter

Whenever he was in the room.

I have seen many like him,

All have come, and all have gone,

But they all lack his sparkle

To shine as brightly as he shone.

Oh, he had moods like any other,

But they never lasted long.

See nothing seemed to faze him,

And sadness just seemed wrong.

There was nothing that he wouldn’t try,

No dare he’d never take,

What you saw was what you got.

He was genuine, not fake,

He was far to busy living,

To be bothered with all that stuff,

Like a pearl found in an oyster,

A true diamond in the rough!