Well, most of the time, men are bitter, and whine,
and their eyes are cast down on the ground.
And I can’t help but think, that each mumble and blink,
will do naught but bring other men down.

Every once in a while, I will see a man smile,
not from guilt, but of pure, heartfelt mirth.
And I think, once again, that with every grin,
a new lover is borne on this earth.

And once in a blue moon, I will see a man swoon,
from the deep, pounding, sweet waves of love.
And I can’t help but know, that the man with heart stole,
is the kind this world needs some more of.