Old soul // 2021 deep blue river musings @ Debbie Carrier

I love an old soul
Whose
Been around
Lingering
In all my quiet spaces in the morning air
Tucks herself into the sleeve of my shirt
Bend of my skirt
Taste of my coffee
An old soul
Like an old pair of tattered blue jeans
An old harp some angel discarded
Born anew

I love an old soul whose not afraid
Of being called that
A merchant of long past affairs
And dreaming
Sells me tales of ships sailing
Over elderberry hues
And jam

Toast, and dainty slices of butter
Fingers with gothic fingernails
And the softest blonde hair
Spun by weavers weaving
Thrown down from rapunzel’s heights
To rescue some poor soul
So tired and longing for delight
Or a ray of
perpetual
Sunshine

This old soul is no grave digger
But an excavator
Shoveling until the thump is heard
And the heart starts
Again

Patiently waiting to serve tea
And biscuits

She’s no catch and release !

I love an old soul
Whose
Been around
Lingering
In all my quiet spaces in the morning air
Tucks herself into the sleeve of my shirt
Bend of my skirt
Taste of my coffee
An old soul
Like an old pair of tattered blue jeans
An old harp some angel discarded
Born anew

Calling me lady.
Who me? Who knew.