August Autumn,
As I return to this lightless house every evening, I miss a slight shiver, A fretful gait and that reconciliation
between the unwavering trail of festivity and a hapless sense of serenity.Always resonant. Way back in time, fleecy clouds
would sink in my mnemonic struggle. Struggle for......enjoying it now and never had earlier. Ordinary am I? - not to flout such obtuse whims?
I exactly remember instances that made me go numb down my legs, and a second later, I perused my person with that mellow prick.
All hazy.
The struggle isn't against Nostalgia. Urge modelled into shape impromptu.
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