By mental age they say I am 43.
Old soul, yes.
I have crows feet from perpetual introspection,
reading books in dim light, inspecting the folds of time
for the tiniest wrinkle
that proves I was born in the wrong century, wrong time.
By some un-ironed twist of fate, I was placed in the wrong womb.
But I am resourceful, I can bloom where I was planted,
Though I will always have heart strings in the past.