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.