Hopeless inclination towards a blending of nostalgia
And something just a twinge surreal.
Too enraptured, perhaps, or too locked inside the senses
The search takes me places, to small shards that I don't quite comprehend.
Still unsure why, if I can't, or I just don't want to.
Silently sipping dime store coffee from an old familiar mug.
Soaking in solitude, rife with memory.
Touched lightly by the hem of rose tint, blooming in the spreading flames.
As the old wooden paneling, tried as a tinderbox
Begins to peel away, affected by the heat.
A fire, awakening with the first rays of morning.
To warm up the little room, as the walls softly fall, turning to ashes.
Revealing the bare frame.
And the fauna outside begins to show itself
Sprinkled with dew, gently turning away the flames.
Contained to her walls, they smolder and die as the day takes its course.
But for now, I still crawl through creation.
Hopeless, I'll never recapture...
Ignoring new context, engulfed in a rapture
With the past still dancing through my head.