I’m commended and cast out for my old soul,

For my preference of a paperback between my fingertips,

For my hips swaying to the soul of the sixties,

For my withdrawn fascination with people,

But I blink and go on living

Because nothing in the world makes me want to know 

Like a portal into someone else’s world;

Nothing makes me want to sing 

Like the masters before my time;

Nothing stirs my heart 

Like those of others;

So I turn the page, 

Change the tune

And marvel at the world.