A Poem.

You seem to smell of interest and intrigue.

It's quite obvious, my friend.

You're wearing it on your sleeve.

If only those eyes would reveal more than they do,

I may have a chance at figuring out you.

See, you've mastered the art

of turning your face to stone.

And I ponder what's behind it

when I'm quiet and alone.

Maybe to those you know, 

the face of stone turns soft.

But as for me, not close enough,

You often seem far off.

But despite your lofty countenance 

and eyes that look past what's there.

I determine myself to figure you out,

though I don't know when or where...