1. The Hills Of Nostalgia


    Date: 4/3/2016, Categories: Love Poems, Author: Green_Man, Rating: 9, Source: LushStories

    Is it possible to remember a time and place you have never seen. She is like the mist, in a past not there; in a vision, a guise of love. Is it nostalgia, true nostalgia, to yearn for that which you never had. Neither known nor unknown, she is my own, above the heights, the lost sights and sounds and smells of love. The rolling hills are there, and passing through them brings the clear clarion call of remembrance. The music of lost passages of time; of lost love, never mine. Smelling the golden grasses dried by the symphonic sunlight of summer. Her hair, filled with the odor of sun filled days, and nights, in the season of love. Touching the live oak leaves redolent with green, as tears of longing drop among the acorns of desire. Skin of velvet and musk, glowing with the russet loveliness of loss, still to be found. Sing to me, meadowlarks, sing and echo down the valleys, laughing as they roll away, together once more, as never before, here in our heartland of heavenly thirst for the sweet honey of home. Her song ...
    trills and causes trembling, in my mind, in my heart and my fantasy, my fond remembrance of the past. Home once more, for the first time of many times to come. Home, where she lives, in my memories, of nostalgic visions to come. Returning home, returning to a place and time out of time, no longer there, no longer there. Where, did she ever exist, or is my mind my own, not my own, never known. Never really there. She is really there. Lost in my memories and now found in my dreams of brilliant buttercups. Blossoms of blessed love, petals falling from my eyes. My eyes seek and send my heart the feelings of remembrance and nostalgia, aching, necessary nostalgia, that fills me up. She fills me up, and the memories are real, they are real, so real. Fills me up a store of memories to succor me when remembrance is all there is and all there ever will be. All there is, is the remembrance of her and all she is. Of the place that really only lives within me, inside me, all alone in my chambered soul. My chambered soul, she fills.
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