Of Nostalgia

I guess I’m just becoming oddly nostalgic, but I found this lying around in my virtual drawer, so I felt I had to post it, poor thing. It’s an old-ish poem of mine, which I find I still enjoy.

So Many Memories Ago

Your arms go back so many memories ago,
When the sky was a different shade of blue,
When weeds hadn’t yet grown on graves of void –
You make me wish I was still young,
With rivers sparkling in my hair
And branches growing long and strong
Inside of me.

Your lips go back so many memories ago,
When leaves were red and our eyes were green
And filled with different kinds of songs.
My heart goes, too, so many pastimes back,
To games of chess and flowers,
To filigreed wings on wind.

Back memories and memories ago it was
That this pen here could write on sand
And what it wrote was not a memory.
The words were burning on the waves,
The waves were burning you and me
And waving through our veins became our blood.

That was so many memories ago
And our memories were young and few…