Nostalgic Flashback Poem by D.N. Rebb

There is a feeling that kind of reverberates in your mind
As you're off being busy with whatever daily task is at hand
The brain is like a staircase with many closed doors
Some that have not been opened in years, while others remain permanently ajar
And of those obvious doors, well they present their own gloomy shadows too
What's odd about this staircase is that you can hear footsteps
Though it's hard to determine what direction they're all heading
Some pitter patter along, others trample rather loudly, and a few shuffle
There are no voices though, only this foot traffic
On occasion an inactive door will get opened
If you listen hard, you can hear all the steps running towards it
Even the shufflers pick up their pace
Though they've seen it all before, they love reliving the flashback stored behind those doors
Nostalgia is merely the longing for something of the past they say
It feels good, doesn't it?