You hold yourself precise, aloof
At a distance, at arm’s length
Yet I always finding you standing on my edges.

I notice
The conspiratorially grey nature of your eyes
The way you stiffly stand
Hands jammed
In pockets deep enough to hold them.

You smirk,
Not with condescension,
But one that says,
“Come smirk with me.”
As if a constant battle rages
Between your reservation and a
Mischievous grin that seems to lurk beneath.

A solid head on ungainly shoulders
A stoop as if uncomfortable with height
An intriguing mix of youth and manhood
A boyish face with ageless eyes.

You’re a person of extremes, it seems
Loud one minute, quiet the next
You remind me of a summer storm –
A flash, a thunderous clap and then
You’re calm again
Leaving me to wonder at your depths.