NostalgiaMore Like This
The house was ripe with once secret romances
that seemed to sink between the couch's cushions
and cling to rain-washed window panes.
Activity of flickering insects tapped against the sill,
saturating the walls with ghostly shadows
while breathless streams of sunlight swam around them.
The room held a kind of lukewarm emotion.
One that still pervaded the air with faint,
lavender quills and settled on the shoulders of its occupant.
In a vibrant lull, it dusted my conscience
with petty apparitions of once absolute memories.
All of which now sits in a pile on the floor,
Horizontal landmarks of growing children still remain
carved across the peeling door frames;
resurfacing old fantasies
unraveling new ones
The spider silk curtains still swung, drunken in the wind like so many years ago.
Softly I stepped around countless cracks of floorboards.
They always seemed to stretch
farther each year.
Almost limitless now.