Old Soul.

Born with an old soul

He’s no time for frivolity

For mind games and bickering

For him there’s no novelty.

No time to raise voices

To contest or protest

Sat quietly,

The world he’ll digest.

He observes and he watches

As the world rushes by

He can recall specific memories

But couldn’t say why.

As this old soul gets older

His patience wear’s thin

As he gazes at nature,

He muses,

The end does begin.

Published by RTS

Father, husband, teacher. Occasional eccentric.

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