I was hit by inspiration this morning,
What a lovely thing it was.
To be taken over, feel words flowing;
And then my hands came undone.
He was not the cause of my words.
Oh, no. Not you again.
It took place in an idea of sorts-
Nostalgia, my old friend.
That electric shock I used to feel, I fear is dwindling,
As the ghost of my past all came to me,
The fire to my kindling.
Now I’d be a fool to think I could go back,
To hold on to what once was.
But now I use it as a comparison-
What any female does.
Nostalgia, nostalgia, you are my unwanted home,
But perhaps you brought me back to see,
My hearts does want to roam.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 7:10 PM UTC
I was hit by inspiration this morning,
What a lovely thing it was.
To be taken over, feel words flowing;
And then my hands came undone.
He was not the cause of my words.
Oh, no. Not you again.
It took place in an idea of sorts-
Nostalgia, my old friend.
That electric shock I used to feel, I fear is dwindling,
As the ghost of my past all came to me,
The fire to my kindling.
Now I’d be a fool to think I could go back,
To hold on to what once was.
But now I use it as a comparison-
What any female does.
Nostalgia, nostalgia, you are my unwanted home,
But perhaps you brought me back to see,
My hearts does want to roam.