The Introvert

He sat quietly where no one sees,

And kept an eye on the rustling trees.

A thousand words stuck in his head;

Too shy, like him, too shy to spread.

He saw them laugh, and jump, and run,

The game was noisy, the kids had begun

To play with their mates so happy so loud.

He just wondered why he avoided the crowd.

They called him quiet and so was him.

Any chances to play in the crowd were slim.

A few waved “Hi”, but he didn’t see;

For his mind did never leave him free.

He got up but to listen to the birds so sweet;

And to watch the ants marching in the street.

His world was small yet big and grand;

Mindful in mind and handful in hand.

.

 So, if you ever come across him sitting still;

Do not worry he’s not sad or ill.

He is dreaming, feeling, and thinking too.

This is what all introverts do.