When I was young I had wrinkled skin,
just as now I have soft hair.
And even now I feel the pain of love,
just like when I was young and widowed.
When I was young I had tunnels etched into my bones,
but I still write and draw like I once did.
When I was young I had such life, such zest for anything,
and now that life has dwindled none,
but lies incomprehensible to the ignorant man.
It can only be seen by those who choose to see
through wrinkled skin.
And now I'm old, with such life within,
and yet I sit here,
because I have soft hair
and smooth skin