Nostalgia
Nostalgia at this time of year, the younger boy in me,
Of Halloween, Thanksgiving and the coming Christmas tree,
Of fishing holes abandoned with advancing autumn chill,
And, wonders of all golds and reds in trees upon the hill.
It takes me back to Mom and Dad while raking leaves in piles,
To let their sons dive into them with hearty laughs and smiles,
And, the old sled, with steel rails, was from the attic drawn,
Anticipating soon enough a snowy winter’s dawn.
The camping gear all stowed away, in basement it is placed,
Recalling every frog or snake in summer we had chased,
The logs ablaze in fire pits, on sticks the hotdogs turn,
How sweet the tastes of summers known, as embers they now burn.
It floods within, and haunting some, it is the haunting time,
With gaiety I welcome them in memory sublime,
With grandkids now, new eyes they see the wonders of it all,
Nostalgia waits, one day for them, when summer turns to fall!
Peter Lowell Paulson
October 22, 2020
