Age

I would say

I’m old

Before the thought is put down

By what others say

 

They insist that I am not

But it is true

That young

I am not

 

They would understand not

Although half their age

Time

is what I have naught

 

Feeling

The physical aches

Of those

Who were before my nearing

 

Feeling

The emotional aches

Of those

Who were lost before me

 

Feeling

The mental ache

Of those

Who lost themselves before me

 

Time

Truly is what

I have naught

It is Time

 

Not that

Others would understand

Even if

They wear my hat

 

Not that

Even one would understand

Even if

They stood in my shoes

 

Not that

Even one would understand

Even if

They walked my path

 

Since everyone’s perception of time

Is different

So is their perception

Of age

 

So why?

Why?

Do I hope

so hopelessly

 

For someone

To understand

My perception

Of age and time?