A Thousand Years

He's an artist,
and a musician.
He's a weirdo,
He's a writer,
and a scientist in his own reich.
He talks too much,
or not enough.
He goes to bed full of thoughts,
wakes up with ideas,
and crazy hair.
He loves his ears touched,
but never his feet.
His smile makes the sun shine,
his foul moods feel like danger.
But never toward me.
He is warm like hot coal,
and cool when needed.
He is odd yet
so familiar...
he's been beside me for a thousand years
yet arrived in my recent world.
My soul searched forever,
but he was here all the time...

K.M.Q.F.
3/22/15