A breath of autumnal air lifts me back to simpler times, those nights when my home fit into a Deva 60. Azure skies. And as I dream of those distant days, I find myself curling towards the left side of the bed, desperate to re-read those yellowed pages.
Yet, these are perfect years, the seasons delicately folded in with youth. The last of all I have ever known. It is midnight, and I find myself wrapped in a blanket of tears for days that are no longer mine. Flashes of poolside nights and the Anzac Bridge continue to numb me, and so I pine away for those memories, forever dancing in my head.
My heart has been broken since twenty-three, for oceans that I may never swim in again. And so it goes.