I need to hold on to the poetry.

Cole Thomas, Home in the Woods, 1847

What happened to that house in the woods? The one forever fragrant with a forest breeze and cakes in the oven? The one where I'd write endlessly and watch the sun go down in your luminescent eyes?

Nothing has changed, really.

The trees are where they always stood (but for the ones cruelly hewn)

The clouds drift much like they did before, carelessly strewn

Across a patchwork sky.

The songs you sang

Remain wrapped even now, around the cockles of my heart

Nothing has changed even if this does seem, like an unbidden new start. 

I arise, I breathe, I dream

Just like yesterday and the day before that, it would seem

Then why is it I feel - the scent of my favourite books have faded?

Young I may be (relatively) but this old soul of mine feels jaded.

The monsoon wind rages beyond my shuttered window

But I want to open all the windows in the world - that's all I know

And let in every single drop of rain.