Serious, somber, and stoic,
Stodgy, stuffy, and stiff,
Bifocals, a pipe, and tweeds,
Porkpie hat and shoes with lifts.
A mind a million miles away,
Probably not on this earth,
Filled with hypotheses and doctrines,
And data of doubtful worth.
Shuffling, as he walks,
He does not see his path,
His vision is of logarithms,
And correlated math.
He marches to a drummer
That beats differently for him,
Ascetic and aesthetic,
He's aware of both within.

Conjugating Latin verbs
Puts a wry smile on his face,
And mulling over Shakespeare
Makes him stop and stand in place.
A wealth of information
Is stored within his mighty brain,
He may forget his home address,
But Einstein's Theory still remains.
Self-centered?  Yes, I guess,
Selfish?  In a way,
Egotistical?  For sure,
Lonesome?  I should say.
His head, mostly in the clouds,
Though both feet are on the ground,
So busy cogitating,
He seldom looks around.

He never saw the pretty lady,
That taught across the hall,
Though for years he'd said, "Good morning,"
And doffed his hat and all.
Then one nasty, rainy day,
They collided at the door,
Their books and papers strewn about,
And scattered o'er the floor.
The epitome of courtesy,
He retrieved the things that fell,
He designated his and hers.
But did not separate them well.
"I beg your pardon, Madam,"
He said, handing her some books,
"No ... those are yours," she smiled,
"Here ... take another look."

Their two heads bumped together then,
And next their fingers brushed,
"Ahem," he cleared his throat,
Unaccustomed to such touch.
Electricity began to flow,
Between the two unwitting souls,
May I borrow a book sometime?"
He asked, not meaning to seem bold.
Emotion welled within him,
As flustered he became,
"I'd like to introduce myself,"
Then ... he forgot his name.
With his vast store of words,
And his impressive education,
The man was at a total loss,
In this present situation.

What?  Something he knew not!?
Something he'd not seen or read?
What was this odd phenomenon,
Sending strange thoughts through his head?
For a moment he felt young again,
Would he could jump and click his heels,
What a charming little lady,
And so full of 'book appeal.'
"Have you read Whazzizname?" he asked,
(His favorite bard throughout the years,)
"Oh yes," she smiled and recognized,
His reference to Shakespeare.
"Oh-h," she knew!  He sucked in his breath,
What a wonderful creature he'd found!
But then he saw that "Shakespeare's Sonnets"
Was among the books upon the ground.

How smart she was ... and clever,
But was this lady playing games?
For she, too, had seen the book
Upon the ground with Shakespeare's name.
He cleared his throat, embarrassed
He liked her spirit and her style,
But he turned his face away,
Lest she'd catch him with a smile.
Yet this chance encounter
Excited and intrigued him,,
And the lady, too, who was no fool,
Sensed that she had pleased him.

A wise man, this odd professor,
With his bumbling, stumbling ways,
He doffed his hat and said, "Good-bye,"
No way could he be swayed.
Now you may think the tale ends here
With this man's short and curt goodbye,
But he could not move on, it seems,
He could only stand and sigh.
The absent minded professor,
Now noted something strange,
His mind became a total blank,
Just from this mere exchange.

He might not know the lady's name,
Nor that her eyes were blue,
But he recalled that she had said,
Yes ... she'd read Shakespeare, too.
Thus, one absent minded professor,
Lost his mind and heart that day,
To a young lady wiser than he,
Who stole them both away!

Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright July 2003 ~ Revised February 2009