I could probably fool anyone
if I tried.
I am small and I am lithe.
I do not look my age or act it –
I am an old soul with windowless eyes
and I try and I try and I try –
to be everything and nothing,
to be extraordinary and just me –
the girl who should call herself
who writes in the bath
and cannot shut out the music
of birdsong; the ever-present omen
that life still goes on.
No matter how I feel
or how many tricks I play,
and so I guess that makes me the fool;
fooled once, twice, and thrice,
by the heart I own
which seeks to love me better
than I will ever know.
Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020