I looked up at the setting sun today and something felt strange.
Leaning up against an old oak tree that used to hold a swing I would spend summer mornings on after tea,
And noticing the basketball hoop was now ridden with rust,
the one that my brother and I played with constantly
A decade or so ago.

And in this strong dose of nostalgia
I looked over to the pool,
now covered for the winter months,
And dreamt back into the summers I spent filling my lungs with air before taking a long dive and eventually breaking the surface into sunbeams
the top 40 hits on the radio once again.

I could almost hear the voices of all of my cousins and aunts and uncles,
The excited yelling and laughs at a party in this same backyard sometime so long ago,
And I just sat in the dark for an hour,
Contemplating with myself.
It's not normal for me to  wither in the past,
Because I know it's gone, and I know it's all just in photographs and thoughts,
But I couldn't get past how much everything has changed tonight.