Treasure Island

Francis Duggan


Small Things Bother Me


He wore dark glasses I could not see his eyes
And the mirror to his soul he did disguise
He hid from the World his personality
Without the eyes a face you only see.

Perhaps his eyes from the bright sun he shade
The main reason why dark glasses are made
And though he lives nearby him I shall never get to know
As he wears dark glasses rain or sun shine or snow.

Any acknowledgement of me he never seems to show
And we pass each other by without saying hello
Through his dark glasses into my soul he peer
And he's still a stranger though to me he lives near.

Perhaps I'm small in ways and small things get to me
But it bothers me when others eyes I cannot see
Whether their eyes be blue, brown, green or grey who can say
As the mirror to their soul behind dark glasses hidden away.

I see him often though not every day
And his eyes behind dark glasses always hidden away
The mirror of his soul is well hidden from me,
Perhaps I'm small and small things bother me.

Submitted: Tuesday, February 12, 2008
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