Old Soul

I simply knew,
Someday, and real soon,
I would become a fool
To your vivacious moon.
Because an old soul

You must be
If what ye find is hilarity
Amongst the imminent rage
Of orchestrated reality.
The blessing of laugh lines,
The mindful steeping of time,
A being of whimsy,
Who never lets bleed.
But if you may,
If you might,
It would certainly be
One hell of a masterpiece.

By: Danica Sanders

Raised by the desert, but grateful to live by the sea, Danica is a writer who philosophizes on being and its eventual expiration/re-becoming.