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

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