Somedays,
The mind gets caught up
In history.
The heart craves the taste
Of bygone.
The nerves get desperate
To re-feel.
Those days,
The will power seems to lose
It's game.
The body stays still and
Motionless.
Time becomes the enemy
That won't pass.
So today,
Cheek against the pillow,
Limbs inactive on bed,
Heart cravings at the peak
And mind racing into
Closed stories.
I'd like to believe that
This Too Shall Pass.