Nostalgia
Another decade draws to a close,
And the nostalgia hits too hard.
Dropped like a bowling ball on broken toes,
Finally, 2020’s silent bard.
A green peach tumbles through my mind.
The liquid runs down my chin.
The first taste of being left behind,
The first cookie from the tin.
It is the glove that did not fit,
And of diving for the yellow ball lest,
There be something that will always sit
Uncomfortably upon my chest.
A sterile white room and doctors mean—
A frustrated keyboard,
And Simpsons darting across the screen,
Add to nostalgia’s precious hoard.
The decade smells of putrid roses,
A mother’s hand held true,
Another tale of ruined closes,
Another memory for me and you.
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