The Flight to Zurich: The Professor

The professor I saw, was a joyous old fellow,
though his hair was snow-white, and his teeth a dull yellow.
He was happy to acquaint, and extended his hand,
which I found to be rough and as coarse as the sand.
His intelligence shone with a light all its own,
and he seemed like a grand-father whom I always had known.
I found that in history he was very well versed,
he told of old battles he'd often rehearsed.
He spoke rather fondly of Chaucer and Shelley,
and strangely proclaimed that he never ate jelly.
He dressed very formal, his suit wrinkle-free,
and rather than coffee he only drank tea.
In his grammar and speech he was rather plain,
though he claimed it was merely because he's insane.
From his bag he withdrew a book leather-bound,
and proudly proceeded to pass it around.
It was a first edition of Doyle's Sherlock Holmes,
and seemed to age quite nicely when compared to older tomes.
The purpose of his visit was to trace the Templar line,
and find definitive links that led to Switzerland this time.
We delighted in lenghty and pleasurable discourse,
and he could admit when he was wrong for he rode no high-horse.
About an hour into the flight he decided he should rest,
but before he slept he quietly said his name was Charles de Brest.
As he slept I took a glance and beheld his elder features,
and I knew in him I'd found a friend amongst us human creatures.