Only Maybe

I was scrutinizing him with a degree of curiosity As I never saw a bohemian artist face to face. In my surrounding, I saw many, many people… Nice people, amicable and gentle, friendly… Intelligent and courageous people … But I never saw a bohemian artist face to face. He met us. It was a happy time indeed to greet. Although, he was a very silent type. Ten questions could get one answer only Which made me think he is an introvert person. And I was defining him as an introvert artist. And I felt that the story is somewhat incomplete. We parted eventually. The time to farewell. He hugged and kissed my naughty little one. And I thought he could be a great family man And I was defining him as an artist who is a family guy. But I did not see a bohemian artist in him, yet. And I felt that the story is somewhat incomplete. He left an envelope, wrapped in ribbons Handed it to me and requested once to open it after he hit the road, finally. I kept my words, and then I opened it. A deep eloquent silence introduced me to a poem, then And I realized, only maybe, he is a bohemian type of one.