My feet tread steps, very lazy,
A daily stroll through the windy woods,
Glaring past the dusk's falsehoods,
My hair making the void hazy,
As I flashback to all my childhoods,
Comes one, come then many more,
I pull them all into my embrace,
Sighing at every moment, every phase,
More to my nostalgia, than to adore,
Drops -joyous, grievous- trace down my face
This fine eve, the woods are young,
I feel like a little girl, oh the nostalgia!
Soon I see, it's already the wee hour;
These woods are my heroes -unsung,
And the nostalgia they offer? My utopia!
- S.T.
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Words Aquiver. 🌸
PoetryThis is my weary ink that seeks to be immeresed in galaxies through written words aquiver. ? . Hope you enjoy your stay in between my scribblings. ✌ Stay tuned for more additions to this abode of poetic justice.. !
