I am not Old
by Samantha Reynold
I am not old, she said.
I am rare.
I am the standing ovation
At the end of the play.
I am the retrospective
Of my life as art.
I am the hours
Connected like dots
Into good sense.
I am the fullness
Of existing.
You think I am waiting to die...
But I am waiting to be found.
I am a treasure
I am a map,
And these wrinkles are
Imprints of my journey.
Ask me anything.
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