Deconstructing Shylock!

He wasn't aware,
Nor did he care
For that lilt from a bamboo
Those colors of a rainbow
That caress from the breeze
The quiet rustle of the leaves
That sounds of a mynah
The sweet smell of the flora
The world could dress itself in all glory,
Shylock would see dreary!
He would just walk away
from those that dont pay.
The colours he could ever see,
was that of money!!!

He knew he had a disdain,
Looking at the weak and pain,
That was until today;
Facing that child's stare.
Nor was he aware,
That something so forlorn
could breach his scorn,
That something so tall
could be in that heart that small,
holding him in thrall.
So much love, so much fear
in those eyes with a tear
Looking up in innocence
seeking his acceptance;
Apprehensive and yet bold,
wrapping fingers, in a unsure hold,
His cold apathy begins to sink.
The orphans eyes blink
and the tear drops falls -
The stone resolve stalls;
The moist's first diffident signs
Appears in Shylock's soul's confines.