My friend is lost inside his head,
And it's a lovely place to be.
In there he’s cared for; watered, fed,
It's safe; of limits free.

To himself, he’s company the best,
Unconditional love and care.
Never irksome; an ever thoughtful guest.
And dependant; always there.

He takes himself to busy places,
Where unknown yet in plain sight.
Enjoys the many varied faces,
Observing life finds great delight.

But the time he appreciates the most,
Is when he finds he’s quite alone.
And thought is free to drift and coast,
He can serious things postpone.

A quiet house, a country lane,
With nothing but his thoughts.
No behaviour to himself explain,
An alternative world of sorts.

It's then he knows better who he is,
Which others may never see.
Intriguing edge with a subtle fizz,
If a drink he were to be.

He loves his family and tries to show,
The best he feels he’s able.
But fears they may not truly know.
See beyond the 'my friend' label.

And he’s also sometimes lonely,
When certain thoughts he’d like to share.
Small commitment, and brief only,
But that person isn't there.

For no such soulmate can be found,
And his search will be in vain.
Resigned to never dreams propound,
Or little daily cares explain.

Such depth his resignation here,
It's ever doubtful that he would.
That if a listening someone did appear,
To bravely confide, ever could.

Yet he treasures this locked-in sense of being,
Contained and independent.
This peaceful calm of inner seeing,
Safe; a solitude resplendent.

A dichotomy within himself he knows,
But one with which he is content.
He’s a quiet stream which hidden flows,
To be noticed never meant.