Nostalgia

Curling up lazily, wreaths of smoke,
From cigarettes dying away,
We sit around the fire, the reds and blues,
Long since faded to shades of grey.

Our minds drift,
Memories bygone jostle for place,
Dreams and wishes, promises and lies,
All, but forgotten today.

The conversation hangs dead,
As we lose ourselves in woods dark and deep,
Where we buried our loves,
And the innocence that cradled our childhood.

Ridden our luck to come thus far,
Bruised and battered by life’s grindstone,
Ghostly images tread softly,
Voices of friends – vanished and gone.

We sit there in silence, waiting for tomorrow,
Born of our surrender to today,
But our hearts linger behind,
Bound by the tender chains of yesterday.