My soul cannot be quantified each year,
Nor pinned within date's restricting lane.
Some days a crone, a child without peer,
As life's rich moments come, then wane.
Through trials and tears my being's grown,
No rigid path or timeline bounds.
I celebrate each dawn, seeds freshly sown,
And greet each dusk when dusk's sound resounds.
Numbers confine not my fluid state -
Joy's banquet daily I prepare.
I laugh to see limitations peeling late,
My soul's free dance no labels dare.
From @asielda