I stared at it for too long.
Until I left the ground. Guardians with satin veils... watching over my first rise.
Were we meant to be found between the pines or was the fog in charge in the middle of July.
Nostalgia. My sight can only bare green and black. I’m telling you. I’ve witnessed the clock on the wall trying to fight back at times.
Nostalgia. The misery I always desire.
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Author:
Ani. Is. (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 5th, 2023 09:28
- Comment from author about the poem: when you know you’ll always be in love with the past.
- Category: Surrealist
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments2
When even the clock can't fight back time..
No wonder your wall clock is fighting back .. Dali's clock melted on a tree .. (may be of nostalgia. .)
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