:disclaimer: This has yet to be edited but I got so excited and decided that it could be kept hostage in my journal no more.
Full of years he spins his tale like a well oiled machine
Wisdom pours out onto the naive one across from him
Eyes wide, glowing pride, mystified by the world
His cigarette lights the room, a small speck of illumination
The ashes cling to the tip, afraid to fall, afraid to land
He gives it a little tap and they all dance gracefully to the tray
The man of years listens, he is almost deaf
The girl speaks quietly, unsure of her words
They communicate through looks and excessive hand motions and laughter
She does not need to speak up
He does not need to perk up
He is eager to share his thoughts
She is eager to share her dreams
He has experienced many things
She has many things yet to experience
He sits in his chair
She can't sit still
Generations vivid in the room
Traditions shine through
Listen and you can hear
Watch and its made clear
Ones new path is often an extension of previous roads
