Nostalgia
There is magic about it The younger years when worry seemed fleeting And excitement hung in the air Anticipation for all the things that have yet to come Running wild and naked through the dirt Splashing in pools of black Horizons disappearing into an infinite scheme of water and sky The sounds of cheering The cold lingering at my lips and being pushed away by the warmth of my breath My ears aching from the sounds of people talking And the chilling atmosphere that wrapped itself around me I miss the smells Of a hallway freshly coated with wax The way the classrooms smelled of books Too many torn and tattered, but too many to be replaced So the smell remained Holding within them years of eager hands and youthful faces How many eyes have scanned those pages and breathed life into them I miss the anticipation of the bell ringing Counting down minutes and then seconds until I could burst into the hall Longing to catch a glimpse of someone I called a friend Dying to have a conver...