Boyhood Blues
Boyhood Blues
It feels like summer –
The s(h)immer of an enduring sun
Sitting down at a family dinner with the front door open
Nostalgia coats everything like a thin layer of dust
Stale memories swirl about in each breath
It smells like a childhood home and tastes of summers past
(lost freedom and simplicity wait in every bite)
It feels like summer – and I don’t know what to do
Because summer is a scrapbook
discovered in the attic amidst swirling dust
pictures stained with déjà vu and paper scraps curled from age
Because heartache strips me down to a few golden-egg moments
Because I’m exposed against the battering winds of Time and Fate
(As they weigh me down in their entrapping fog)
You see, summer is not a season but a tangible sliver of the cosmos
that brushes up against us and moves past
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