Nostalgia
My brain atop the machine -Kerplunk - A thought
ping-pong-ricochet-falls into a slot:
This time it’s the one where
she’s in the back of a convertible,
pulling fingers through soft curls;
the day is loud and fast and young
Another releases and
again a path is forged,
again a channel is opened:
Ruby, with her secret treasures
hidden in the dark, and I
with a child’s faith, reaching
for her wandering flame spirit
A pulling grows within me,
But alas, I am but a brain
atop this wretched machine
I’m unable to hold or help or hope
for more than this:
that he might remember my fingertips
and I,
I might find his memory.
Diary by R.W.S.
Read 119 times
Written on 2024-02-19 at 06:45
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