The Problem with History Books

Now that my upcoming verse novel is firmly in the hands of my publisher, I've turned to my newest WIP. I actually started this piece months ago and though I'm quite excited about it, I've  discovered that research has its limits. 

THE PROBLEM WITH HISTORY BOOKS

The problem

with history books

is too many 

numbers

and not enough 

names,

though even names

tell so little—

like 

did he read books,

and if so,

what was his favorite?

did he like to sing?

did he whistle?

when he shaved,

did soft humming

sounds

mingle

with the scent

of citrus and wood?

or was his stubble

a scant wisp,

a single gossamer 

thread

scarcely visible

but to him.

I wonder, then,

what was

his mother's name?

and when the rumble

in the distance 

grew closer,

and the trembling

in the trenches

grew louder,

did he think of her?

or was there 

a secret sweetheart

whose name

he'd never whisper

in the dark?

stacks of history books

don't say;

even favorited websites 

are silent.

Research has its limits.