I long to live in a vintage
world
where the warm, spring wind blows
softly all day long
and the sound of wind chimes are
the only things representing
a calm humanity's
existence
I would like to take pictures of you
behind the lenses of that old-fashioned
vintage camera
you wearing a faded David Bowie shirt
with ripped blue jeans, dusty shoes
displaying your white, crooked
teeth of a smile
can we ride around town together
bikes pulled out from neglected
sheds full of rusty, old tools
leaves twirling through the squeaky wheels
rolling down cracked pavements
with crushed, brown green grass and
white daisies trying their best to
remain upright
can we sit on the raggedy bent steps
of an old abandoned
two story house
and eat melting ice cream with
cold fingers and hot heads from the
sun's yellow white glare
can I hold your hand
intertwining our rough flat palms and
tracing your dusty, worn fingers that
wipe away burning tears
and caress my face as though it were
the most precious thing
in the world  
can we pretend that
life is just an old- fashioned movie
time put on for us
and the setting is my mind expressed as a
hazy yet vivid vintage world.