That’s the pattern of your walk.
Somewhat deceptive to the casual onlooker,
Who assumes that you can’t even talk.
That’s the timbre of your voice.
You could speak louder if you choose to,
But you rarely exercise that choice.
That’s how you try to treat people.
You make them all feel welcome.
And believe that they are truly beautiful.
That’s often the description which you get.
One which is so overused,
It makes you want to punch someone in the gut.
That’s the kind of feeling you elicit in others,
Radiating grace and quirkiness,
Unserious gentlemen see you and falter.
©Ivie M. Eke 2016