Alone at home, a book in hand- but then,
A memory, that look, you see again-
When you were loved as love could never be.
It is okay to sometimes think of me.
“Back at you,” from depths of hurt and pain-
Umbrella down- just standing in the rain-
Yes, all can in a moment disappear-
Into the thought of “What if you were here?”
Soaked as if the heavens cried- yet bliss-
Out there in distant memory our kiss.
A past to birth a love that will not die.
How it all keeps going? That is why.
Oh, life is good, such comfort, we belong-
The past, the present, future, nothing’s wrong-
But there’s that moment we were most alive.
Check the mirror, put the car in drive.
As calendars and seasons take their turn,
A candle in some distant dream will burn
As love and dreams still cast their magic spell
Of you and me, that we will never tell.
Nostalgia is a difficult subject for any genre and for most poets to tap. You've done a wonderful job of bundling it up into a masterful rendering. So well done!
Sherlyn Powell opens up about her love and devotion to her family and the overwhelming repercussion when communication breaks down. Heartbroken and distraught she learns to release her prayer and realize with faith God would reunite her family.
She never felt safe at home as a young girl, and didn't understand why when she finally escaped she wasn't safe in the big wide world either ...effectively jumping out of the frying pan into the fire!
On February 20, 2003, pyrotechnics at a rock club in West Warwick, RI set off a devastating fire that roared through the crowded club, killing 100 people and injuring hundreds more. Gina Russo was one of the survivors, and she retells her harrowing e
Regis. 🍁