He's a scholarly gent, puzzled by heartache and a mid-life crisis

Hershel

He's sitting at the rosewood desk, puzzle in hand

A distraction to his ever wandering mind

With the top hat sat by the window sill

Overlooking the months of gray.

His heart is heavy

Yet with his head raised high

He walks down the way

A seemingly happy man.

He does not dwell on the feeling

Or many feelings

The gentleman with dire priorities need not wallow in selfish feelings.

Sometimes it's easier to just forget.