Old-Soul

OLD-SOUL



I lived in libraries
of literature in
daydreams of
history behind
coke-bottle glasses
pressed firmly
through shyness,
fortressed by
end caps where
I squatted spaces
to hold all the days
when I was
a child.

Look at me Oh look at me world
in my healthy escapement
as powers of people
and folks of my father
with manners like mama
damped the insides to
bury the child I wanted to be.

world in all, Oh, such a wisdom
old tell the young
with adulthood as promised
to cross far lands in
sequestering memory
i think I remember-
making, dreaming, longing -
hidden in sections so
barely glanced
passing poets gothic
forgotten and empty
for ME cross-legged,
crouched, head in folds of
chapter I where the boy recalls:

"I was born."

----- njames51





my aging
is farther
in life.

Mighty the
wisdom, awed
in worlds
where people
expect
even now.

that an old-soul
is the child.