When I sit awake at 3 a.m.
Scrolling through petal-dropped
Memories,
I think of how I'll never
Live them again. Pleasantries
Sink under sands.
There's an ache behind my smile.
There's a longing that will
Soothe like chamomile
But burn the tongue just as fast.
I miss those days and I know
They'll never resurface
In the marching present.
Nothing lasts.
Grateful for the heartache
Because I know
I lived and learned and made an impact.
So maybe I can get some rest
By 4 a.m.
And care to discover future nostalgia
In approaching daylight.