Nostalgia

What are you staring back at me, red-brick warmth and beveled skies? I close my eyes and leaning back wonder, wonder at such lingering mysteries that drift throughout a rumbling sky. Sometimes I forget in the morning haze what makes me ME, click-click like tap dancing shoes and it's good to remember my rhythm beating, sitting on an old park bench, falling in love with sun-burnt leaves and old soul blues.