Oh, I am a lonely child.
I have been since birth
My only company,
The small cat my mother let me keep.

That changed as I got older,
My first friend was the elderly woman in church
She kept books and butterscotch in her purse
It was mine she has said.

It was this interaction
Shaping my friend forever,
This turned me into
(As she always called me)
An old soul.

I liked old music,
Soft pastels,
And on sweet occasions,
Black and white movies.
It was blissful spending summers with her.

We sat nicely on porch swings.
And drank sweet peach tea.
It was almost romantic the time we spent together.
The only problem we seemed to have
Was time.

She grew older every day
The wrinkles more indented.
I didn’t understand when
She couldn’t come out to play.
Or why I had to wear black on Sunday.