Longing, I am always longing
Reaching back and reaching forward,
from paths I've already tread to those
still whispering in my mind,
I clutch each to my breast-
steeped in nostalgia, wreathed in magic-
thrilling until I should die from the ache

Longing for stories and other worlds
To sip of the potion
To pull humming, throbbing reality
from shimmering mind
To build and then climb
Longing for what was and what could be

I remember the crisp November leaves
by the side of the road
The voice of a bygone friend after
so much time
The glimpse of a dream, still living
Each memory and vision piercing deep

Longing, longing, thrilling
But why?