
I’m not consigned
to old age, yet,
although my youth
has lost the bet.
I still have passion,
heart, and drive,
and in my inner soul
I thrive
Although I like
a rocking chair
as much as anyone,
beware
that’s not my forte,
not my place:
I’m not done
with this long race.
Don’t unsee me,
Invisible.
Don’t mark me off
predictable.
You don’t know me,
from what I’m made;
where I am opal,
you see jade.
I still have spark,
I still have fight,
I’m still willful,
with all my might.
and just because
I look an age,
don’t use it as
unfair presage.
I dream, I dance,
I fly, inside.
In my heart,
I’m still a bride.
You think you know,
Like age tips fate;
Like golden youth’s
the only trait
But I know me,
and I am strong
and though I’m not young,
I’ll live long
and this is nothing;
just the gate
to better things,
if I just wait
You think you’re young,
well, that’s just great –
your soul’s just twelve;
well, mine’s just eight.
The outside shell
don’t tell a thing,
it doesn’t say
what life will bring,
It doesn’t say
how sweet the soul
it doesn’t show
the endgame goal
All it does
is mark the years
the smile lines
the trace of tears
and shows I’ve lived
from here to there,
and shows I’ve learned
just how to care
but my essence
still remains
despite my losses
or my gains
unchanged inside me
my deep core
which will remain
forever more
and that was young
‘twill never age
no matter wrinkles,
what their gauge
for what’s inside me’s
like a bird
gentle, light,
a breath of Word
and though I am
no longer young,
my journey, here,
is far from done.
~Amarine Rose Ravenwood
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