Nostalgia:
The fragrance of dewdrops
dissolving amongst crisp morning air.
The green and delicate leaf buds
sprouting from once-bare branches.
The humming loud radio
playing from front seats of cars.
The taste of vanilla ice cream
melting under yellow rays of sun.
The rain-streaked glass windows
blending messy autumn shades.
The rustle of fading book pages
turning minute by minute.
The blanket of thick fog
tumbling between red brick houses.
The fallen needles of pine
snapping under light footsteps.
The bright umbrellas and hand-picked flowers,
the lawn mowers buzzing and sprinklers half-off,
the flock of birds and wilting blades of grass,
the ticking golden clock and snow biting cheeks.
Four seasons,
year by year,
and that is
nostalgia.
Dec 24, 2019
Dec 24, 2019 at 4:14 PM UTC
Nostalgia:
The fragrance of dewdrops
dissolving amongst crisp morning air.
The green and delicate leaf buds
sprouting from once-bare branches.
The humming loud radio
playing from front seats of cars.
The taste of vanilla ice cream
melting under yellow rays of sun.
The rain-streaked glass windows
blending messy autumn shades.
The rustle of fading book pages
turning minute by minute.
The blanket of thick fog
tumbling between red brick houses.
The fallen needles of pine
snapping under light footsteps.
The bright umbrellas and hand-picked flowers,
the lawn mowers buzzing and sprinklers half-off,
the flock of birds and wilting blades of grass,
the ticking golden clock and snow biting cheeks.
Four seasons,
year by year,
and that is
nostalgia.
