Nostalgia

The pain of being welcomed home,
nostos algos,
a Swiss soldier missing the mountains,
returning to find he’d misremembered them for years,
and learning that the streets of Zermatt had changed
and that the people didn’t know his name.

A jigsaw piece in a pocket
that’s been through the wash –
you still see the picture, and how it
might once have fit, but
the edges have changed and
although you can force it into place,
it’ll never quite nestle down the same.

Advertisements

About abigailbaross

Writer and aspiring publisher
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s