Out of step with the times The old becomes new To the younger generation. Yet I feel more like a throwback To times long gone. I repeat my father’s jokes, Play finger games where my thumb splits in half. I laugh with my grandkids, Who for some reason Think I come from a different world. And I do too. Old traditions from my grandparents A story, foreign to their world, Fascinates them. I’m the walker who has walked Neighborhoods since I was five. I’m a budding artist who Plays with impressions. A story in color Without words. I’m the author who travels The world, and writes Of being at home. I’m younger than I’m old. One Step out of Time
