He says that those days are gone,
And I tell him I’m well aware,
That I’ve said my so longs,
I just saw these regrets coming from elsewhere.
I explain I want not for nostalgia to become tangible;
Asking not for the heartache to get worse.
It just those days creep in so resiliently forceful,
Giving way to canyons worth of memories to traverse.
I fret over loyal shouts which have turned to whispers,
Those constant companions who now are but peripheral shadows,
I muse over the thought I could be a fastener,
A maestro to keep us all in synchronized tempo.
He restates that those days are gone,
And I tell him it is still deserving of pause.
That all the kinships we had set upon,
Should be worth enough to produce some cause.
Another example I am told of having a want to believe,
That things can get better when you wear your heart on your sleeve.