I find myself more drawn to the past

than I have found myself in decades.

The rose coloured telescope pinpointing with

alarming accuracy what I already knew

but was too deaf, to blind and stupid

to understand what could have been

if I’d had the courage to stay and not move

on once more.

 

The past, the illusion of fine weather days,

of fresh country air filling my lungs

and cleansing the stuffy headed inoculation

first given to me in a needle fit to burst