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.

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