Box of nastalgia

A long distant walk with the energy of the sun in any season.

My nostrils open up with the smell of thanks giving.

My mind begins to marinate all of my thinking until it dissolves into a relaxed mind that goes with the flow of the ocean.

The breeze caresses my arms to later then my sleeves. Leaves of color then again turn back to green.

With every walk the path remains the same but the view of the world always change. A mind full of food but a body full of weights, trying to balance all these priorities brings my walking up a few pace.

But noticing all the still life as I continue to race. The enjoyment of being still never seemed so in place.

When I take one step into the door it always brings me to my breaks. The smell stimulates my mind and begins to drop all my weights.

I close my eyes and then as followed open. I see myself in the grass, picking flowers in kindergarten. Then and now the sun is shining but now it seems like picking flowers isn’t an option.

I close and open my eyes again realizing I’m grabbing for the reason I walked in. Who ever knew a small box could be my cup of tea.

A small box filled with nostalgic would be my remedy. I just let the world go and eat until I feel free.

Mind stimulated and body finally empty.

This poem is about: 
Me

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