Nostalgia
Innocent and Ideal
my breath, in ragged gasps
Innocence and Idealism
my tears, unfettered and profuse
Innocents born free of guilt, free of guile
my ragged rages, unfettered and profuse
Idealistic children, fire is beautiful until it burns.
My breath, My tears, My rued rages
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, the lost
like a gutted monastery
bereft of spirit, only foundations remaining
the hardest of stones, for future contemplation.
jimmy shaker writes this
