Nostalgia

Reflecting back, on the threshold of change

Tiny little puffs of smoke, rising in the air
And they all seem to be going nowhere
A sudden gust of wind, before me blows
Just like that, away with it the smoke flows

Tiny particles set out, the world to conquer
Free at last, of the strings that held them together
Blurry figures gesture on the parapet wall
Withered and waving, like trees in the fall

Tiny ripples, across the misty river flow
A gentle tug in the heart, resounds an echo
From it a sweet melancholic tune springs
Played by an unseen hand on my soul's strings