Nostalgia
Innocence and Idealism
my breath, in ragged gasps
Idealism and Innocence
my tears, unfettered and profligate
Innocent born, free of guilt free of shame
my ragged rages, unfettered and profligate
Idealistic children, fire is beautiful until it burns.
My breath, My tears, My regrets:
every word spoken through clenched teeth
every hand raised, every fist even those concealed
every fit of pique and spite, every action diminishing
the innocence, the idealism of my children.
Nostalgia,
like a gutted monastery
leaving only foundations
bereft of spirit, for future contemplations.
Robert Douglas Hickey |
