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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required A Sensitive Man He was the sensitive, hushed type whose character was often folded inside his pocket, rather than on display. He always felt different but adhered to the rules: school, college and now work. Politeness followed him courteously while his kindness was always considerate. In his early years, his words seemed small and shy while the playground of life swamped him so he shrunk, withdrew into his world, away from noise and the carnival of people Always aware of the ticking clock in the room, the pavement through the soles of his feet, the need for the companionship of calm and quiet while anxiety pushed him hard to be correct. He enjoyed using his imagination when looking at life, learning to read situations and people. He was called shy or sensitive when young but others, more astute, thought him gifted he just thought himself as….. different. Some sort to bully, which caused internal distress but he rarely backed down until retrospectively he suffered through scrutinising self-analysis. As he aged he became proud of his ‘sensitivity’ not a weakness, no in fact…. a strength. He no longer felt flawed however he did feel empathy for certain men who lived with blunted emotions never in tune with the importance of the arts or indeed the interwoven nature of nature. He knew he was never going to chuckle anyone’s knuckles but he’d become thoughtful, creative, aware, empathetic and felt fortunate that he had ‘found’ and understood his ability. He could travel far, sleep under stars, play guitar, write poetry and watch with pleasure as sunlight became an artist. So finally he had respect for himself and a compassion and understanding of others. He now smiles as he muses back through the years at the metamorphosis he has undergone from young boy into the personality he now feels he has become….the strong, redoubtable butterfly! Ian Souter
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