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He lived all his life in a gloom.
After his wife's demise.
Looking for glow always.
But he never saw one.
Always on his face is a gawky expression.
Made him unfriendly often.
They tried to keep him chirpy.
It was never a success.
He pursued every pacifier.
Behaved like a kook.
Mentally deranged, they thought he was.
But he was okay.
Just staid and doleful.
Not until the ictus happened.
He associated with love.
Loved by everyone, envied by few.
Never did he jabber to anyone.
He was lax and friendly.
With the way he went on,
He never expected the lachrymose moments.
His wife's death opacated his life.
Leaving not even a reflection of light.
Once a cheerful man became so sad.
I feel sorry for him.
Hello, my name is Jack Sparrow. I'm a 50 year old self-employed Pirate from the Caribbean.
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