Contemporary Nostalgia

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Blood flows to vessels
once it has ever trailed
Feet to alleys
 once twice or thrice.

A mind I own wanders
 to days of intoxication
 stutters and chatters.

Nocturnal walk talks
Voyages of hearts, yachts and rafts
lone caravan distances
Deep seas sand dunes
Oh steep cliffs.

Affection is a compass in oblivion  
A bubble to a drowning soul
Beneath the ocean bed,
Distant from terrestrial breathe.

Behold,
Love finds its way back,
always!

@juliuscseguya 

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