Illusions About Nostalgia Poem by shimon weinroth

trembling lips whisper and sigh,
silently cry and moan,
bring back our clear blue skies
with white downy clouds,

fresh air to tickle and arouse,
fondle and compose,
aromas of green grass, sparkling waters
red roses, cinnamon and tea

let the sun shine on me,
rays of light to warm my memories
memorable to remember me to you
yet how much of you cares,

to share nostalgia of youthful days,
vanished melted and dried up,
too painful to bring back ghosts
of worn out, weary times tedious

that youth is no more
the unlicensed memory search
hunting and fishing for misty forms
that stutter, fog and seem to fade

wishful thinking prods, singing praises
for Indian reincarnation,
Pythagorean transmigration
tickling my mind teasing my fancy

I feed on delicious fantasies
always coming back, better
than I am, or was
one rarely returns less than before