I am an Ancient Soul

An Ancient Soul I am.

Keys were heavy as I approached the house
I held them in my hand, poised, ready to attack
Each step closer my heart would pound.
One beat the louder one step the safer.
Trace-talks like tides inside as i
Ran my story through and polished details.

Then I was in the porch. Life going
On as normal outside my addled brain.
One. Two. Three. Deep breaths and
A slap for colour if I felt worse for wear.
I’d hold the key and hover for a moment,
Just to line it up and the smell of gum
And vodka would travel like smog that
Everyone ignored until it affected each in turn.
‘Y’alright ma?’ It was 10 o’clock.
‘How was the film?’

But now they think me old enough
- an ancient soul as some might say
And the scolding subsides to be
Replaced by empty threats of hunger
And stories of olden days.
So now I work and win the bread,
And take my sup in private.
An ancient soul I am.

I know when I am old and
My hand will hurt to pour my
Amber-lover, born-deceiver
Will be my gift in parting
But if perchance my faith eludes me
I will brave the pain, make it short
And drift away innocuous.