Every Limb Groans

I forget how to adore nostalgia
Aching unendingly, with no respite
And though it brings grief to me
If I shove it away, I turn up numb and frostbit

And as I open myself back up to it
It is a warm, enveloping stream
Every limb groans against its touch
The same as the ancient pines in a spring breeze





Photo by Jake Hills on Unsplash