He was a musician, says the many instruments strewn across the room.
A reader too, says the old, worn down bookshelves lined with novels in the corner.
And a clumsy, unorganized man, says the cluttered, wobbly, three legged desk.
He liked to eat, says the well stocked pantry, half-open, in the kitchen
A tea drinker too, says the many teabags, scattered across the kitchen counter.
The Baylor bottle says that even when it came to beverages, he wouldn't be caught dead in maroon.
But most of all, he loved god, says the cross emblazoned on the wall.
And a special place in his heart would always be for his dog, says the dog bowl-still full, and the many packages of dog biscuits in the laundry room
The paint cards and the half open Christmas decorations say he was never quite done,
But the many pictures and the well worn couch say that he made time for family when it counted.