Original Date: 6-04-2007
THE NOSTALGIA POTION
in rain and waiting on the Sun
A stranger longs for a glimpse of dawn
Breathing through the drooping willow and bayou fields
By the woodchuck's nest, 'yond the tender breeze
Atop crusty reefs and caverns alike,
the prisoner of shadows lays bemused
in a world not fraught with horrors unseen,
but memories that hark close to the heart.
he turns—moans restlessly;
His taunts, his laughs—a voice so keen!
The gray of his eyes seems dimmer yet
'Not a care in the world: a wonder set
to be explored in full—from the skies brim to
the fisherman's net': Or so he blurts to reminisce of better times
Times, all of which in goodness spent
Akin to all, fully imminent.
chiding call of the lark, much like these fresh wounds so soon begot
—bitter truths uttered by angels too, heavy they are not, but sullenly blue…
He thinks of marigolds, of myrrh and chime too
Posing naively, reaching out to Eden
Before he sleeps and forgets his sorrow
Just to repose and commence on the 'morrow.
Written while in college (GSU: MS)