Nostalgia
by JDA
A late Sunday night in November
alone with bad radio
Grid overhead like a bad school marm
Don’t breathe too loud
Breathing, like a new born infant
is seditious
If you think freely, more’s the woe
Boy, do I miss you, and you, and you, too
But now you’re just a pair of
frightened, suspicious eyes
as the grid lowers
My eyes notice this because they look
just like yours
I want to love again as naturally as I’m
supposed to…once knew how to
Simply, wake up, stretch…and love
(image above used with permission – copyrighted anonymously)
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