SOLASTALGIA
Fireflies flicker in brief sojourn
Twinkle but do not return
It is now a season for moths
For whom old paths become new oaths
Flight patterns
Flashes of memory instead of lanterns
Homes are houses once again
Where families no longer reign
Survivors huddle each and each
In one hand an unripe peach
Gnawing at food and other things
Like pains and thoughts time brings
The host of dreams have less range
From child to teens to this age.
ACC May 1,
2019
