Rickety armchair behind cotton curtains

Shroud windows that open to concrete

The golden swirls in my china teacup

Also arch over the streets.

A framed photograph lies beside:

It speaks of happier memories

The smiles of yesterday beckon me

To relive childhood fantasies.

The rhythmic hum of the city

Seems a slight mockery to that quiet

Emotion replaces usual nonchalance

Now nostalgia in glee wreaks a riot.

Resurrected faithfully every night

In bittersweet rainbow tinted dreams

The present is too fast the part unhurried

Or so, in my imagination, it seems.

This ink will fade and paper will tear

But the words of mine will stay alive

That still reflect my foolish thoughts

Which nevertheless help me survive.