nostalgia (my lost)

deep inside the corner of my mind

i'm attached to you

i've waited all my life

to cross this line,

to the only thing that's true

when i listen, i am

nostalgic

i remember far away, so long ago

in beautiful british columbia, the small room of 1816

i am lying on my parents' gigantic king-size bed,

made for maybe 20 people to sleep on, snuggle

to love and to make babies, to fight over, to cry in

made for my family, made for me.

i am lying on it, and it is the almost-end of summer

it is the morning, and the sun is shining on the

golden-dappled walls of my white hiding-place

and i am lying there and the blinds are all the way down

but they are peeking open, so the golden liquid

that is the sun's rays are caressing my equally golden face

and i am melting into this warmth, this lazy-smile, this awake-sleep

i don't ever want to leave, because this is when guitar-serenades

are made, this is when slow dancing couples in tall grasses

are uncaring in the whisper of violins and sopranos

this is when the height of my youth reaches the mist in the morning

this is when i am a child

this is when i feel like i am being touched by something great,

this is when i am small but it's okay because everything else is

big and beautiful.

i feel like crying, i want this back

but having the memory is enough

having a song on my lips and hands on my back

having a past in this beautiful place,

having a future in the big big world,

knowing i was a child,

and knowing i will still be one.

i think it is enough, this nostalgic picture

to fill me for tonight. i will think of you.