Isn't he charming, my cousin Modest?
With his playful and subtle laughter,
Like a gentle breeze from the west,
Under the sky, he's a saint thereafter.
He carries himself with grace and zest,
His deep brown eyes, an ocean profound,
Calming the soul and all the rest,
In his gaze, a radiant light is found.
Isn't he charming, my cousin Modest?
In his presence, everything feels celestial,
He possesses an indefinable charm,
That takes you far, like a zest.
In his world, he remains invulnerable.
Perceptive, sometimes on a quest,
With a mind ever sharp and keen,
Impossible to guess his conquest.
In his silence, he's a sage, serene.
Like a beacon, his wisdom radiates,
Guiding those lost in the dark,
But beware, keep your chains,
Or you might lose hope with a spark.
Isn't he charming, my cousin Modest?
Amidst the alleys and the streams,
Our childhood games echo still,
Laughter, light bickering it seems,
Imprinted in our memory's skill.
And here comes a heartfelt scene,
A dialogue between Modest and me,
He calls for our childhood bond pristine,
Now that we're both adults and free.
Isn't he charming, my cousin Modest?
"Remember the carefree days,
When we ran, dreamers and brave,
Through fields, living in the haze.
Let's reclaim that friendship we gave."
Years have passed, but love persists,
Like wine aging with a fine taste,
Modest, my friend, cousin and king, you're the artist,
Of our past, present, and future embraced.
What else can I write?
If not to laugh!
Laugh like that childhood, my desire,
Desire to relive it with you, the future.
To you, Modeste, I offer the rhymes of this poem,
North Carolina, USA. Jul. 2022.
Author's Note: The content of the poem and the included image are the sole responsibility of the author; therefore, reproduction, copying, or translation is strictly prohibited without written authorization from the author.
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